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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

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At Leaf You’re Cute

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Raking Leaves

“I was trying to rake leaves in the front yard but your dog just ran through all my piles and I want to be mad but you're both really cute.”

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

1583 words

*******

“Fleetfoot, no!” A woman’s panicked voice shouted. “Stop!”

That was all the warning Rowan got before a small creature barreled through one of the large piles of leaves he’d just spent the last hour raking.

The sloping tower collapsed as leaves went flying in all directions. Rowan barely blinked, his vision clouded by the explosion of dried, maroon leaves before the fluffy, four-legged beast was dashing into the second pile.

“Fleetfoot! Come here!”

Rowan snapped out of his momentary shock and watched in horror as the happy puppy let out a bright woof as it escaped the ruins of the second pile and made a beeline for the third. He flung his rake to the side as he tried to catch up to the dog before it ruined yet another hour’s worth of work. Yet, even his long stride was no match for a determined, energetic puppy.

Rowan gaped as he slowly surveyed the damage. He had spent the morning enjoying the crisp, fall breeze as he raked the large expanse of his yard. It wasn’t his favorite task, but it needed to be done, so he grabbed his ear buds, turned on some music, and worked for the last three hours to rake up every stray leaf he could see.

And now it was as if he’d never even picked up his rake. The light breeze was spinning some of the leaves that had been tossed in the air by the force of the dog’s collision, and the yard that he’d gotten to look like a fresh, clean slate was now once again a blanket of red.

A figure rushed past him, straight for the dog who was still yipping and jumping around and trying to catch the leaves that were falling.

Rowan closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath, trying his best to get his fraying temper under control. He could still hear the woman muttering something to her pet and the distinct sound of metal on metal, presumably her clipping the puppy’s leash on.

Her voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. And that name—Fleetfoot—why did he recognize that name?

His eyes flew open, and Rowan finally took a moment to look at who exactly was responsible for the destructive hellion.

The woman stood from her crouched position and dragged an agitated hand through her long golden hair. Double checking that the leash was secure, she turned toward Rowan with a face full of apology. Her bright blue eyes, now wide with remorse, glinted in the light that illuminated a faint ring of gold around her pupils that he hadn’t noticed before.

She opened her mouth, most likely to apologize, but Rowan spoke before she could.

“Aelin, right?” he asked, as if he hadn’t memorized her name that first time she’d introduced herself.

She had moved in down the block only a month ago. At first, he was annoyed at how she kept bossing the movers around, not that he had any right to an opinion, but it seemed too excessive and reeking of entitlement. But then he realized, through his definitely-not-creepy staring, that the movers were friends of hers, and her queen-like commands were being taken with eye rolls and requests for compensation in the form of pizza.

Two days later, she introduced herself when she caught him checking his mail. In one hand she’d had her dog’s leash and in the other she had been carrying bags filled with Halloween decorations and candy, claiming it was never too early in the season to get in the Halloween spirit.

That was when he’d gotten her name. Aelin. And Fleetfoot’s, of course.

Now, she nodded as her lips twitched upwards even as her eyes still looked worried. Somehow, she managed to get her puppy to stay by her side, but rather than sit attentively, it was wiggling on its back and pawing at the air excitedly.

“Yeah.” She confirmed. “And you’re Rowan.” it wasn’t a question.

He nodded and Aelin kept a firm grip on Fleetfoot’s leash as she glanced around at his yard and winced.

“I am so sorry,” Aelin told him with wide eyes before looking down at the oblivious puppy with a long-suffering sigh. “I just took her to the park, but she apparently has an endless supply of energy, and when I got back she jumped out of the car before I could get her leash on, and, well,” she looked at Rowan and winced again, “there’s no match for a puppy on a mission.”

Despite the mess around him, Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched the small, golden animal squirm in the leaves under her back until she was laying on her belly, looking up at Aelin with big eyes.

As much as he wanted to be upset, he couldn’t bring himself to feel angry. If it was anyone else, He probably would’ve yelled or cursed them out, or at the very least scowled menacingly and demand they get off his property. But as he looked at Aelin who looked genuinely sorry, standing in front of him with her hair blowing in the wind and a rich, red scarf wrapped around her, he didn’t want to tell her to get off his lawn—he wanted to find a reason to keep talking to her.

Her gaze turned questioning as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Look,” she said, taking a step closer, “give me a few minutes to go put this little beast inside and I can come back and rake up the leaves.”

The little beast was huffing through her nose and watching as the leaves in front of her fluttered in the air.

“It’s the least I could do.” Aelin went on, tugging her black jacket tighter around her.

Rowan found himself shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

Aelin raised a brow. “Really? My dog comes flying into your yard, destroying what I can only imagine was a couple of hours’ worth of work and you’re telling me that I shouldn’t offer to clean it up?”

He huffed a laugh. “Okay, yeah, when you put it that way.”

Rowan crouched down and held out his hand near Fleetfoot’s nose, giving her a chance to sniff it. She immediately popped up and began licking his hand before launching herself at his chest. Rowan had to brace one hand behind him so he wouldn’t topple over from the sudden fuzzy attack. He could hear Aelin snort and try to hold in a laugh as Fleetfoot pawed at his chest and licked excitedly at his face.

When Fleetfoot finally ceased her slobbery attack, Rowan wiped a hand down his face and held the dog as she settled into his lap, gently petting her soft fur as he looked up at Aelin who watched the pair with a fond but amused expression.

“She likes you.” Aelin told him, smiling.

Rowan carefully set the dog down and matched Aelin’s smile as the puppy wove in between her feet.

“She’s probably just trying to use her cuteness to make me forget she destroyed my yard.” He teased, making sure there wasn’t much bite in the words.

Aelin smirked. “Maybe.” She dropped her eyes to roll over him from head to toe. “But I trust her judgement.”

Rowan told himself that the way he rolled his shoulders back and stood to his full height had nothing to do with the appreciative perusal she made of him.

She grinned. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to clean this up.”

She took all of one step before he reached out and gently touched her elbow, halting her. “Wait. No, I’m not going to sit inside and watch as you rake my yard.”

Aelin raised a single brow and smirked. “You were planning to watch?”

“No, that’s not,” he knew his cheeks were heating as he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean watch you, I meant—”

His embarrassed stammering was cut off as she laughed, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

“I know that’s not what you meant,” her smile was wicked. “But it was fun seeing you so flustered.”

He rolled his eyes but took another step closer. Aelin didn’t step back, simply raised her chin higher to keep looking him in the eye.

“How about this,” he suggested, enjoying the way a slight flush raised on her cheeks as he leaned in closer. “You help me rake the leaves.”

He could’ve sworn her eyes twinkled as she pretended to think bout it. “I suppose that would be fine.”

“Good.”

They stood there for another moment, seemingly unaware of the wind whistling through the branches or the crisp echo of leaves crunching. It almost felt like they couldn’t look away, or wouldn’t, until a high-pitched woof sounded from beside their feet.

It jolted them from whatever moment they were having and Aelin sighed as she leaned down to pick up the smiling puppy.

“You, little miss, are not getting any treats tonight.” She scolded, but quickly got pulled in by Fleetfoot’s adorable gaze. “Oh fine. But just one.”

Aelin began walking back towards her house but paused to look over her shoulder at him and smiled. “I’ll be back in a minute, Rowan.”

He grinned at hearing his name roll off her tongue. “I’ll be waiting, Aelin.”

Rowan smiled as he heard Fleetfoot’s light barking all the way back to Aelin’s house.

*****

Taglist:

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#rowaelin #aelin #rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #rowaelin fluff #fleetfoot #autumm #raking leaves #halloween #throne of glass #tog

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0606-hyuck · 3 years

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fireworks at midnight

♡ looking back on your last new year's eve party with mark, you realise it's not about what he says to you, but how he makes you feel, that really matters

pairing: best friend!mark x reader

genre: fluff, college!au, party!au

word count: 1.3K

a/n: this is something i wrote no joke about seven years ago and am reposting on my tumblr :) hence why it isn't really up to standard but i didn't wanna have to rewrite the whole thing lol // tagging @nct-writers

masterlist

With each sip you took of the clear, colourless liquid, you felt your soul slip closer and closer to the warm embrace of temporary rest. The transparent drink swirled around your cup hypnotically, enticing you to “one more sip, one more sip!” It distressed you that this poison was so easily presented in a colourful plastic cup, and if one was not careful, had absolute control over a person's mind.

The people around you screamed at each other over the headache-inducing, bassy, electronic music. Teenagers danced around the room, pressing their sweaty bodies closer as they jumped to the music. The party had been going on for awhile, so the stale stench of sweat stained the air. A tall girl, much older than yourself, was handing out bottles of beer to everyone, but the bitter, burning taste of straight vodka lingering in your mouth forced you to decline her offer.

As you headed out to the backyard, the music faded slightly and the pounding in your temples dulled. Stepping over the body of a poor young girl who clearly couldn’t handle her alcohol, you headed to the furthest possible place from the house you could find. There was an overwhelming whiff of vomit and smoke in the air, but you didn’t mind - at least you could get away from all your drunk classmates.

New Year’s Eve is a memorable time for everyone. It is a night where you can just let loose because, after all, you survived another year. It is a night where everyone feels on top of the world. And the parties! You’d been going to New Year’s Eve parties since your early teens, although New Year’s Eve last year was slightly different - it was the first time you hadn’t seen the New Year’s through surrounded by drunk teenagers. It’s a memory you will never forget.

37 minutes to midnight.

Pulling out your phone, you desperately searched for something to distract yourself from the trainwreck this party had become. You noticed a male figure exit from the house and pause as he scanned the backyard. A few moments later, the figure sauntered towards your position against the back fence, a happy twinkle in his eye. As he approached, you observed the familiar tidy black hair, child-like dimples, and a wide smile that you knew was reserved for only you.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” He questioned in his silvery voice once he was in talking distance. “You’re at a party, Y/N, you should be socializing!”

Chuckling, you replied, “you know me, Mark, I’m not really a party person. I just came to see the promised fireworks.”

A large grin spread across Mark's face at your statement.

“You know what? I have the perfect place in mind to watch the fireworks!” After seeing the skeptical look you threw his way, Mark added, “come on, Y/N, let’s do something fun to end our last night together. In a few months, I’ll be leaving for a tour and it will be your first year of college.”

"Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you sighed, giving into Mark's pleading eyes.

28 minutes to midnight.

You didn’t realize how tense you were until Mark was driving you down the highway in his deep blue Jeep Cherokee. With the roof down, Mark turned the radio up and you sang the lyrics out for everyone to hear. While Mark definitely was not a singer, he gave it his best go and had you in tears after his voice cracked loudly on a high note. As you traveled, you two sang songs about broken hearts and forgotten dreams, but it didn’t dampen your mood. The loud chorus of parties throughout the city seemed endless. It wasn’t until you reached the outskirts of the city did the noise die down.

“Where are we going, Mark? We’re going to miss the fireworks!” you commented, concerned, quickly jumping out of the Jeep as your friend pulled up to a desolate petrol station.

“I know,” he replied as you entered the shop. “So let’s get going quickly!”

After paying for two neon green cans of cheap energy drinks, you jumped back into the Cherokee and continued on your adventure.

12 minutes to midnight.

Mark sped the Jeep up the winding road towards the looming black silhouette of the hill above us. With the wind blowing through his shaggy hair, Mark haphazardly navigated the dark road, veering close to the edge but never close enough to tip the two of you into the rock depths of the cliff below. His driving was questionable, to be honest, but you were more focused on whether you were going to miss the fireworks.

"Close your eyes,” instructed Mark, his voice becoming husky and his eyes never leaving the road.

“What?” You cried.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“I have a surprise. Close your eyes.”

Raising an eyebrow at Mark's mysteriousness, you reluctantly complied.

3 minutes to midnight.

Recklessly jerking the car keys from the lock cylinder, Mark cut the car engine off. Silence. You could hear only the wind swirling through the trees behind you and the occasional pained caw of a lone raven.

“Okay, Y/N. You can open your eyes now.”

You did as you were instructed and, after your eyes adjusted to the darkness, gasped loudly at the sight. There, right in front of your very eyes, was the whole city, lit up with multi-coloured specks of light. The city-scape stretched on for miles and miles, brushing the horizon with the tops of its tall glass skyscrapers.

“I’ve never seen the city like this before,” you breathed, hopping out of the Jeep and creeping carefully to the edge of the large hill you parked on. Peering at his watch, Mark started to count down.

“5 seconds to midnight.

Four

Three

Two

One…”

Before you could ask him what on Earth he was doing, there was a high pitched squeal which made you want to desperately claw at your ears, and then a loud bang echoed through the valley. No more than a second later did the sky explode into a thousand blood red fragments of rubies and shower the landscape below.

Fireworks!

Sapphires, emeralds, topazes of every shape and size imaginable exploded in the sky and cascaded down onto the partying city. Glancing at Mark, you noticed the fireworks cast a rainbow of hues onto his skin. His eyes were as bright and as wide as the moon above us as we watched the spectacle unfold. Silently, Mark reached towards you and placed his warm hand in yours; something unspoken ran from his fingers to yours, leaving your palm tingling with nervousness. He stared over the valley as if he was frozen in time - he looked so peaceful, and that made you content. Each time a firework exploded, an ear-splitting clap of noise, similar to that of a gunshot, rattled your bones and disturbed the tranquility on the hill.

You think Mark must have said something after that, your hands still linked together, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of hundreds more fireworks bursting in the night sky. Looking back on it now, you realised it didn’t even matter. You remember hearing a quote; “they may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.”

You think that quote perfectly summed up your situation. Even though you didn’t catch what he said, and he’s been away on tour for months now, you’ll never forget how Mark made you feel as if you were on top of the world last New Year’s Eve.

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #dreamwritersnet #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #mark #nct mark #mark nct #mark lee #mark x reader

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evolutionsvoid · 3 years

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Before I had even started this trip, I already had the worry of getting lost. Driving for hours on end through places I had never even heard of, it seemed inevitable. Despite that, I had no other choice but to go. What life I had here was gone, and staying would only have me stewing in the rotten memories and people that plagued me. Though this opportunity was a weak one, it was my only shot out of here. So I packed up my meager things and drove off into the unknown. Best to take my chances out there, then remain in this prison a minute longer. My anxiety born from this journey drove me to prepare for every possible scenario. The biggest worry was getting lost on the way there, but with a mountain of maps, a GPS and a folder of addresses, numbers and contacts, I figured I would be safe. After all, once you get into the barren countryside of flat fields and endless dirt, all you had to do was pick a road in the right direction and drive. I needed to go west, so that was what I did. I drove on for hours, but it felt like I had hardly moved. What a strange feeling it was, to travel hundreds of miles and see absolutely nothing. This trip was supposed to be a transformation, a needed change for me to finally regain control of my life. Yet, I felt no joy or wonder. I guess I was expecting to encounter breathtaking landmarks and travel through strange new places, evidence that the world was bigger than my ignorant little hometown. Instead, I drove through a flattened world of grass, corn, dirt and the occasional pathetic tree. Not exactly the scenery that inspires awe. This repetitive land was probably the reason why things turned out this way, as it was impossible to get a bearing when everything looked the same. Hours had passed since I turned onto that empty road, and yet I failed to notice that things were not right. I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen a single street sign the entire time, or that there were no forks or splits to be found. To be fair, it was long into the night, so most of the blank landscape was smothered by the darkness. I just held onto the idea that I was almost to the next town, if you could all any of these places that. What little civilization I had seen was a sad collection of wore down store fronts, crumbling bars and ancient gas stations. They sat in clumps along these forgotten roads, sharing much with the greasy roadkill that was spattered on the asphalt. Pathetic as these places were, I still yearned for them as I drove down that endless road. Surely one had to be nearby, I just needed to go a few more miles. I followed this delusion for quite some time, pretending that the lack of signs or markers wasn't something to be concerned about. Eventually, I just had to give up. With the clock on my dash showing some obscenely late time, I knew I needed to pull over to collect my thoughts. Looking over my supplies, I found my GPS worthless and the maps just as useless. With no service or any indicators that could help me pinpoint my position, these intricate foldouts might has well have been blank. It was then that I realized that I wasn't lost, as it felt like it was something far worse. When one is stranded in a place they don't know, one of the biggest issues is the overwhelming amount of options. Be it the woods or some unknown city, you are faced with many directions and choices, but you have no clue where any of them lead. Do I go north or south? Do I take the parkway or the back roads? Which exit on the roundabout gets me going the right way? With all this, it is obvious why clueless people wind up going in circles. That was what I considered being "lost" was. This, was something quite different. I didn't have a ludicrous amount of options, rather, I only had two. Go forward or back. The problem was that both choices felt wrong. The path forward had no hope or potential, no signs that suggested anything was to be found up ahead. That choice led to an unknown future, but it seemed more enticing than turning back. Though I didn't know what lay ahead, I did know what was behind me: absolutely nothing. Turning around would mean driving a countless amount of hours until found out where civilization had stopped, but I had no clue where or when that was. I would just be retracing my steps through a known wasteland, losing both time and gas. In the end, the unknown path ahead seemed more comforting. Surely I was bound to run into something eventually, even if it was a rusty road sign or some hermit's shack. Though my mind was made up, I chose not to continue just yet. I was drained of all energy, and I knew it was a poor choice to drive in such condition. It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, so what harm was there to grabbing a quick nap? Perhaps sleeping until the sun returned was a good choice. Daylight could reveal clues about my whereabouts, ones that were currently blotted out by the dark. A rested mind would also work way better, and it would probably solve this problem in a second. So I made sure my car was properly off the road before I turned it off. I locked the doors and leaned my seat back as far as I could. It wasn't long after I closed my eyes that my exhausted body finally received some reprieve. I awoke awkwardly, as if some unremembered dream or nightmare had snapped me from my slumber. It was still night, though I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked at my phone, but my groggy mind couldn't interpret the numbers it showed. I tried to stretch my limbs in the cramped space, but it gave very little relief. My drowsy state made me think that I had only dozed off for a few minutes, as I sure didn't feel any better. Perhaps this cluttered, stuffy car wasn't the best place to get some beauty rest. I figured I would try to go back to sleep, as my options at the moment seemed just as bad as before. As I wriggled around in an attempt to get comfortable, my eyes looked out into the night and saw it. It was funny how strange it seemed at that moment, though I knew fully well what it was. The slow flash of a yellow light, a sight I was quite familiar with, but my tired brain struggled to understand it. I leaned forward for a better look, but it didn't help in the slightest. With my car turned off, the world was pitch black, save for the errant star and that pulsing light. It sat way off in the distance, but there was no mistaking what it was. It took me a second to understand that this was a good sign. A human construct like this suggested civilization, and also a cross road. Perhaps up ahead was where I could find some identifying signs or directions to a nearby town. With sluggish joy, I went to turn on my car and pursue this miracle, but then the thought struck me from out of the blue. How come I didn't see this before? Sure, I was tired and disoriented at the time, but a bright yellow light blinking in a dark void seemed impossible to ignore. I had sat in this spot for a good while before I had decided to get some rest, so how come I didn't see it then? As I struggled to properly answer this question, I looked to the light and noticed something odd. Looking at it now, after a few minutes of gathering myself, it seemed to be bigger. It flashed brighter and larger than before, but perhaps it was just my imagination. I sat there for a moment and soon confirmed that this was no illusion. The light seemed to be getting closer to me. I looked to my dashboard, thinking I had accidentally put the car in neutral and I was slowly rolling forward. The little arrow pointed firmly on the P, so that couldn't be the answer. When I looked back up, the light was nearly blinding. It also seemed to bob and sway about, as if blown about by a weak breeze. The realization that it was the one moving froze me in my seat. I had no clue what it was or what was happening, so panic took over and short-circuited my body. A turned into a statue in the front seat and only stared with wide, terrified eyes. I did nothing but watch as the light bobbed closer, until it was at last upon me. At first I believed it to be heading right towards me, but in those few horrified moments, I saw it walking upon the very road I had traveled. It strolled down the middle, treading upon the cracked asphalt and faded lines. When the light came perpendicular to the front of me car, I at last could see what it was. I recognized the three colored traffic light that hung over every nearly every road, but the rest of it refused to be understood. I saw a metallic skeleton, built of rebar and steel. It bent and twisted into a bizarre lattice, creating limbs and body from an iron spider's web. It walked upon four legs, and the blinding light hung from a long, arching neck. Something black and wet hung in clumps from its body, creating a sticky cloak over its wiry bones. As I sat frozen in terror, the metallic beast strolled down the road. It walked with slow tired steps, its blinking head hung low. Though it was clearly no creature of flesh, it made me thinking of an exhausted horse, weary from a long day's work. It didn't approach my car, it just kept walking by. It was only when it was passing my driver window that it paused. It stopped in its march and slowly turned its pulsing head towards my vehicle. I could not tell if it was looking at the car or me, but I clearly caught its attention. It gazed at me with a single yellow eye. Above and below sat the green and red, but they remained dark and cracked, like eyes that had long gone blind. It made no move, it just sat there for a moment to watch. After a few seconds, it sadly lifted its legs and continued on its march. The bobbing light continued down that endless road, the blinking growing weaker as it went deeper into the night. I sat there until that yellow light grew small in my mirror, becoming just another star in the darkened sky. I didn't know what to do, or even think about it. Though it showed no aggression, I dared not turn around and pursue it. Instead, I simply turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. I gave up on any thought or reasoning, my mind refused to accept what I had seen. I just got into that dusty old lane and began to drive onwards... -------------------------------------------- “Caution” A design I came up with a way back, which fittingly enough was around the time I went on my roadtrip. I think it came to be through a mashup of traffic signs and weird art sculptures.

#traffic light #monster #creature #art #drawing

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jasonscaramel · 3 years

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Positions - The Mandalorian

Din Djarin x unnamed female reader (credit to gif maker up there I just work here)

warnings include: i was inspired by ariana grande’s new album, i also haven’t written in forever (much less for din—that’s never), 2.9k words, heterosexual sex, slight cockwarming, slight dom!din (but that’s all you’ll ever get from me)

author’s note before we get started: i have more of these planned so if you’re interested in being tagged let me know! also it has been forever since I've written so if you like it pls let me know

Being a multi-faceted human being isn’t that difficult, especially growing up in the middle of an endless galaxy. You were taught many valuable lessons growing up: cooking, farming, smuggling, hand to hand combat—the necessities to keep you alive. So upon your first ever meeting with a Mandalorian, it was no shock that he deemed you useful almost straight away.

Growing up with defected Imperial parents, the intelligence training you received from your paranoid parents was better than the Empire could offer. You were sneaky, sly, and downright deceptive when you needed to be. Talking a bounty into walking straight into their death was easy, as was putting them down yourself if you needed to.

You’re also a damn good babysitter. And kids love you.

All around, it was a no brainer for Din—after promising you passage to a nearby planet that ended up being a six month journey—to keep you on board. You were all attached to each other at that point, especially the kid. He found maternal energy quite soothing, and even if you weren’t his mother, it seemed as though having a woman to counteract all the Boy going on eased the little one’s mind.

So now you’re here, the kid strapped to your chest and Din by your side, the only thing in your way of the Razor Crest is the man holding a knife to your throat. He’s trying, and failing, to get ahold of the kid in the process. Din pulls out his blaster in a move to protect the both of you, and the knife shoves further in your neck.

“Come any closer and they’re dead!” The man shouts in your ear, and a squeal comes from the makeshift baby carrier on your chest. You look at Din, hoping desperately he’s making eye contact with you. You give him a single nod, then stomp on the man’s foot as hard as you can, moving to grab the knife from your pocket. The blade at your throat is piercing, but you ignore it to stab the knife into the man’s thigh. He finally pulls away in agony as you rip it out, only to shove it into his throat seconds later. He hits the ground with a thump, choking on blood, and the kid lets out a relieved huff.

“Let’s go, it’s freezing,” you say as your teeth chatter, wrapping your arms the kid and snuggling for dear life. You can feel the sticky warm blood trickling ever so slowly down your neck, but the wound doesn’t hurt.

Upon entering the Razor Crest and shutting the hatch, Din turns his attention to you. “Does it hurt?”

You give a slight chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Din. You get us in hyperspace, I’ll put the kid to bed and get cleaned up.” You left no room for arguments as you made your way over to the baby’s pram and began unraveling him from your chest. You noticed Din hadn’t moved yet, but you didn’t really mind. He’s very protective of his son, so it doesn’t affect you to have him watch you coddle the kid, coo at him and sing him to sleep, if only it puts Din’s mind a little more at ease. With the lives you live, it’s hard for either of you to have trust in anyone. The only way is to prove yourself, and you intend to do it every day. Maybe for a little more than trust, but hey, you’re not complaining having Din stare at you all the time.

By the time the kid is ready to lay down, the ship is up and beginning its course. You shut the little guy in on himself so nothing bothers him and head to the refresher. Looking in the mirror, you have a sizable cut on your throat, but it’s only surface damage. You wipe off the blood, put on the first antiseptic you can find and head out. Apart from that little scuffle, your day had been relatively uneventful. You stopped on this planet to get groceries and fuel, for maker’s sake.

Settling into the co-pilot’s seat, you turn to look at Din and find him already facing you. You give him a soft smile, reaching over and giving him three light taps on the beskar on his thigh. It was something you always did; it always comforted him, even though he never really knew what you meant by it. “You alright?” He sounds genuinely worried, and you imagine if you could see his face his brows would be furrowed in the cutest expression.

“Definitely,” you reassure him, lifting your head to expose the cut a bit more. “It’s superficial, no harm done.” You drop your head to give him a bigger smile for added convincing. “What’s on your mind?” You know he’s concerned, but there’s something else underneath it. There always has been something else with you two. It lies beneath every conversation, making its way in through comfortable silences and soft touches. It pulls at your heartstrings at the oddest of moments, like when he’s cleaning up spit up with his cape or gazing out at the stars in hyperspace when he thinks you’re not there.

“I just don’t like to see you hurt, is all. But you handle yourself well, so it’s hard to worry for too long.” You hear his tone get lighter as he finishes his short explanation, giving you a slight chuckle when he’s finished. You return it easily.

“Please, you have nothing to worry about. As long as I have you as back up, I can do anything.” It started as a simple sentence, but the longer your silence sat the deeper the meaning became. Neither of you broke the spell, just stared at the general direction of each other’s faces and hoping you were making eye contact. It made you giggle, and when he cocked his head to the side, you just shook yours.

“Well, I wa-“ Din was interrupted by a beep on your wrist, indicating the child had been moving around. You turned on the speaker and gave him soft reassurances and cooed a small lullaby.

You didn’t hear anything after that, so you returned your attention back to him. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” You pulled your sleeve over the watch to show you were giving your undivided attention.

The words that come out of his mouth are so quiet you hardly hear them. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

A smile breaks out on your face, tears unwillingly welling in your eyes. “Me too, Din. Me too. I-“ You stopped yourself immediately. What were you going to say? Maker, you could think of a dozen. I love you. I want to touch you. I want to sit in your lap and feel safe.

You’re glad to hear the child crying from the speaker on your wrist.

It had been two months since your almost-talk with your favorite Mando. Since then, Din has parked on the edge of a rainy planet, leaving you and the child for the past week. Easy enough job, watching the ship and the kid, albeit incredibly boring. By day two you were considering what card games the child would understand. By day five, you took to cleaning the entire ship.

Din came back on day eight, the day where you decided to fix up whatever you could laying around. Granted, you’re not a mechanic, but you’ve hot wired enough ships in your day to know a thing or two. It’s basic things at first, fixing loose wires and buttons, tightening bolts. After poking around for long enough, you think you find a decent enough project in fixing the nest of wiring in the cockpit, so you get to work.

It’s not much more than busy work, so when the child started crying you let him sit in your lap and help you work. After doing more harm than good for a solid half hour, you began to try to teach him the task at hand. He couldn’t grasp the entire idea of what you were doing, but he was doing a great job at handing you the wires you needed.

It was a while before you heard the ship make it’s familiar noises as Din came onboard. You heard the bounty pleading, the whoosh of the carbonite, but you didn’t hear his footsteps come closer so you continued your task. The child was beginning to have enough, you could tell he was getting tired, but knowing Din was here you wanted to keep him up as long as possible. Give Din more of a break after working so hard.

“Hand me the blue one,” you paused, watching the child’s little hand reach for the wrong wire. “You don’t know colors, do you?” Sighing, you moved his hand a little to the left to put him back on course. “That’s blue.” He made a noise in acknowledgment, handing you the wire to clip underneath the control panel.

You heard Din finally making his way up as the child handed you another wire. “Red! Thanks, buddy.” He gave you a small, sweet sound before turning to look at Din. You followed suit, looking up from your seat on the floor. The child wrestled his way out of your arms, waddling over to his father and lifting his arms. Din picked him up, holding him tight and rocking back and forth slightly to soothe him. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen, and you don’t even think he realized he was doing it.

“How’d it go? You alright?” You asked Din as you rose from the floor, dusting your hands on your pants. Giving him a once over, you don’t see any blood leaking from anywhere, so that’s a good sign.

“I’m fine, he just wasn’t that easy to track down.” Din kept his eyes on the little one, watching as his eyes drifted open and shut. He was fighting sleep, but Din could always get him to knock out quick.

“If you want to go put him down and get dried off, I’ll get us going to our next destination.” You could hear the rain beating down on the Razor Crest, so there’s no telling how much water snuck it’s way between skin and beskar. He gave you a gentle nod, turning and making his way down to the refresher. The baby’s pram was next to his cot, so he could do everything in one place.

As the ship began its kick into hyperspace, you heard Din’s heavy footsteps make their way closer to you. Turning on auto-pilot, you jump over to the co-pilot seat to give Din his back. When he sits, he double checks the coordinates, and once he realizes you’ve done it all right, he slumps into his chair. You reach over, tapping three times on his thigh.

“I can take care of this if you want to sleep,” your voice was soft, imagining him dozing off like the child was earlier under that helmet.

He tensed, shaking his head without looking at you. “I’m not tired.” His fingers twitched, reaching for a lever and gripping it hard. Reading him was always incredibly difficult, but the more you’re around him the more he lets out his emotions in physical cues. He seems frustrated, restless, was the bounty that bad?

“Then what can I do to help? You seem... tense.” The sharp intake of air was audible through the helmet, so you followed your gut and placed your hand on his thigh.

“Cyar’ika...” his voice trails off, as tense as his body. He’d never called you anything but your name, especially not something this soft, and you found yourself moving to situate on your knees, in between Din’s. Looking up at him, you could see the beskar of his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. You ran your hands up and down his thighs, gazing up into—what you hoped were—his eyes.

“Is this okay?”

He cleared his throat, nodding his head. “More than.” After you hear those beautiful, consenting words, you immediately get to work. You reach for the waistband of everything you could get your hands around and pull. Luckily, Din helps you and before you know it his pants around his ankles and his cock is right at eye level. You take a moment, eyes widening once you finally realize where you’re trying to fit that thing. Din shifts in his seat with nervous energy, and you remember he can actually see you, so you continue. Soft kisses up and down his thighs, the occasional bite soothed with your tongue, all while pumping him with your spit slicked hand. Making your way back up his thighs, you kiss up his balls and shaft, giving the tip a kitten lick before you take him in your mouth. The groan that emanates from the helmet drives you further, doing your best to get used to his size. You moan when he finally hits the back of your throat, and Din grabs your hair with a growl.

“I need—I want...” Din stops, panting, desperately trying to pull you off his dick by your hair. You comply, jerking him softly while looking up at him.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours. Don’t hold back.” Your voice comes out raspier than normal, and you feel Din’s cock twitch in your palm.

“I need to fuck you.” You could feel his need even through the vocoder, so you let go of his cock and—after removing your clothing from the waist down, wearing nothing but a tunic—moved to sit on his lap. Din grabbed you by your hips, pulling you close and hovering over right where he wanted to. Slowly, fingertips digging deliciously into your skin, he guides you onto the tip of his cock. You share a moan as he stretches you, slowly but surely, as you feel like you’re going to split in half.

“Kriff, Din,” you whine, finally seating your hips against his. He runs his gloved hands up and down your sides in an attempt to soothe before resuming their iron grip on your hips. “You’re huge.” You smile when you hear a deep, gritty chuckle through his helmet, and once you feel his guiding pressure on your hips, you finally begin moving.

It’s slow at first; your hands doing all the touching as you got used to one another’s bodies. As Din got more comfortable, he began thrusting into you, taking over your pace and morphing it into something faster, yet equally close. He pulls you so close your chest is tight against his, your head moving to bury itself in his neck. As his pace grew, your hands gripped onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

It was the best sensation you’d ever felt in your life. The stretch was just enough for an extra sense of pleasure, and the way he kept hitting your g-spot on the way out had you seeing stars. You press your lips against the tiniest bit of skin you can find, your fingers desperately trying to find purchase on his shoulders.

“Maker, Din, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for—it sounded like your voice came from far away, like it wasn’t you. He felt so good and strong and sturdy and his soft grunts and groans were filling your ears solely to heighten your pleasure. Everything about him made you want to never let go, keep him just like this forever.

“You going to cum for me, cyar’ika?” His tone is playful as his thrusts get rougher and out of rhythm. You know you won’t last long and neither will he.

“Need it, Din. Please.” Your sobs of pleasure are almost drowned out by the beskar on his shoulder, but he hears you—he always does. His left hand leaves your hip and trails down to where the two of you meet. He traces his fingers over your pussy, and where it meets his cock, then moves to your clit and begins his wonderful torture.

You’re so close, and he’s so good, rubbing your clit just right while his cock splits you open. You hear him breathe your name from under the helmet, followed by a string of curses you can’t begin to comprehend, and you let go, squeezing tight around him as your thighs shake. Din thrusts once, twice more before he’s buried as deep as he possibly can be and comes inside of you. The warmth inside of you makes you shiver with the contrast of the coldness of the cockpit.

The both of you are out of breath, holding onto each other tightly as you try to regain your bearings. His hands reach around you, encompassing your body in a hug as he runs his hands up and down your back. Upon realizing your legs are still shaking, he moves his soothing motions to your thighs.

“You’re amazing.” Mumbling into his neck, you grab at one of his hands and hold on for dear life. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Did I wear you out that well?” Despite the vocoder, you could hear the smile in Din’s voice. You share a laugh, and upon mellowing out, you give his hand three little squeezes. “Alright, cyar’ika, just a little bit longer.”

His gaze stays on the streams of stars as he holds your hand, rubs your back, and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. A little bit longer with you could never hurt.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 14)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 6039 Warnings: fluff, light angst, mentions of cheating

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Major cringe warning everyone.. I can’t wait for your reactions! 😂 A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 13 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Bucky pulls off his headphones, pressing a finger to the keyboard to stop the music he’s reviewing, taking a moment to pinch between his brows. He gets up to stretch his legs, grabbing the empty beer bottle along with him for the short walk to the kitchen. He tosses it in the garbage with the rest.

He doesn’t like drinking this much but lately he hasn’t been feeling great. His music has been stagnant, devoid of life and energy. Thinking about it only makes him feel worse, a painful reminder that deadlines are coming up and what little he’s created is absolute shit.

The knob squeaks as he turns the faucet, letting the water turn to liquid ice before he runs his hands through them, splashing it up against his face. He hears the hiss of the pipes next door and his heart sinks.

It’s Y/N’s shower. He looks towards the wall wondering if she’s alone, quickly shaking the thoughts out of his mind. He shouldn’t care if she’s alone or not. She’s in a relationship and it shouldn’t matter.

Bucky tried really hard to not think about her. He promised himself he would get out there and find someone and well, it hasn’t exactly worked out. In the last three weeks he’s been on a dozen dates. Most of the girls could barely hold a conversation, while the others were less exciting than watching paint dry.

He fucked a few of them even though he said he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the point of these dates but Bucky needed the distraction. It was hard hanging out with everyone, it didn’t matter if Y/N was there with Billy or if they were not; Bucky wasn’t sure what was worse.

Over the last few days he has been messaging someone new who’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping him entertained. Bobbi, she works at a gym Uptown. She’s worked extremely hard for her body and flaunts it in most of her photos and sure, Bucky would love to hit it but there’s something more that keeps him drawn in.

She’s so direct, talking to him as if they had known each other for years. He loves checking his phone to see her latest message, a smile already stretching across his face when he sees a long text about something that happened at the gym. Apparently a lot of characters workout there and she has an endless list of horror stories she couldn’t wait to share with him.

They planned a date for the end of the week and Bucky was very excited to finally meet her. It was promising, the idea that he could be happy with someone just like… just like everyone else.

You hug yourself a little tighter as you walk down the block, feeling the cool breeze move right through you. Billy seems to be in his own world, his head gazing down to his phone as it had been through most of dinner. You didn’t voice your annoyance though because it would only make things worse.

Billy’s been in a bad mood ever since the Feds came knocking at ANVIL’s door. A few former employees were recently involved in a string of armed robberies and Billy was questioned about it. Word got out and he lost a big account as a result.

Obviously the situation is upsetting but it’s not just that, Billy’s been distant lately. You’ve been spending a lot of time together but maybe that’s the problem, the honeymoon period might be over. You know it’s a normal part of any relationship but the idea that things could change so drastically doesn’t make you feel great.

“Hey watch where you’re going,” an unfamiliar voice barked.

Your head turned quickly to find Billy getting in the face of the stranger he apparently bumped into.

“What did you say to me?” Billy’s dark eyes sharpened like a bird of prey closing in on its target. His nostrils flared as he snarled, staring down the other man until he backed away with his tail between his legs. Billy looked him up and down, a smug smile creeping across his face in silent victory.

A heavy arm fell around your shoulders as Billy pulled you closer to him when he began walking away.

“What the hell was that?” you asked after a long beat of silence.

He faced you with the same incredulity he gave the man before. “That was people knowing better than to get in my way.”

Your stomach churned with unease and that silent alarm inside you was going off. You needed to get away from Billy, for tonight at least. By the time you got to the front of your building you figured out an excuse you hoped would work.

“Hey so, I promised Elena I would head in early tomorrow. Paperwork’s been piling up and medical records have been on our case about it. So, can we raincheck this?” You smiled, using your best doe eyes to seem sincere about it.

Billy stared you down, looking for the slightest crack in your expression. It was something he had always done, reading people, checking for lies. You know it’s a product of his upbringing, with so many broken promises made by a faulty system.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s fine,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember I got us Knicks tickets.”

You nodded in agreement, gasping slightly when he caught you off guard by his kiss. It was the last thing on your mind but you gave in, opening your mouth to his forceful tongue. Anything to keep up appearances, for tonight.

Billy watched you enter the building and you waved back at him right before you disappeared for the hallway, finally able to take a breath. On the way up to your floor you wondered if you should talk to Wanda about what happened. It was kind of late though and even though she would want to hear everything about it you didn’t want to disturb her.

As you approached your door you looked towards Bucky’s. Maybe he could give some advice from the male perspective. Then again you didn’t want to bother him either. Bucky’s also been pretty distant lately and you’ve barely seen him in the past month. Maybe everything’s changed, your relationship, your friendships. Change is supposed to be good but this felt all wrong.

You couldn’t find a comfortable spot on your bed, tossing and turning, kicking off the covers, pulling them back up again. Nothing seemed right. There was too much on your mind and you couldn’t relax.

“Shut up brain, just shut up!” you begged out loud, grabbing your phone to find something to distract yourself.

Scrolling through your playlists you tried to find one that wouldn’t give you the urge to stay up and sing along, and then you stopped on the perfect one. It was Bucky’s playlist, Greatest Cinema Scores. Grabbing your headphones you laid your head back on the pillow as John Williams carried you to dreamland.

You groan, rolling over to one side. It’s still dark out. You don’t want to look at your phone but you give in anyway. Two in the morning. At least you still had a few more hours of sleep. Your stomach spasms forcing you to get up, hurrying your paces to the bathroom because the weird rumbling has you convinced you might not make it in time.

It’s five past two in the morning when all hell breaks loose. Hell translating to everything you’ve eaten this evening coming up and out of you from both ends. It’s not pretty. Tears are streaming down your face as you puke into the garbage can you’re rapidly filling, trying to catch your breath in between painful heaves. The other end isn’t much better, hot liquid expelling itself from your body; stomach cramps, body spasms all doing their part to add to the mess.

Ten minutes pass by the time it’s safe to leave the bathroom. Your throat burns with the remnants of vomit, your ass is on fire and you curl back into bed, brushing aside the tears from the corner of your eyes. Your reprieve is short lived as your stomach grumbles again and you rush across your apartment, giving yourself over to the porcelain throne.

More comes out of you than you’ve taken in and you wonder about the science of it all. When will it stop? Dinner was simple, a glass of wine, a small house salad, chicken parm and some vegetables that come out whole as you peer into the soupy garbage held out in front of you. A whiff of the stench makes you gag again setting off another round of vomiting.

Everything hurts. Tears burn hot against your skin as you cry alone, half naked and in need of a shower at this point to clean yourself up. Elvis died on the toilet, is that how you’re gonna go too? It seems entirely possible at this point.

By the time the sun begins to peak out through the large buildings you’ve exhausted your body of all its worth. You’re shaking as you change into clean pajamas, crawling back into bed, barely having the strength to raise your phone to your ear as you leave a message for Elena, telling her you won’t be able to make it in today.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, not when you’re still getting out of bed every hour to get rid of every part of your insides. Isn’t it out of you already? You think back to dinner and the slightly pink chicken you thought at the time was your imagination or bad lighting. Dammit.

You text Billy, telling him you have food poisoning, hoping his seafood and linguine didn’t leave him in the same position you were currently in. After the hundredth trip to the bathroom you opened up your fridge looking for something. You squirm as you look at the orange juice, however tempting it is the acid would probably burn through you. Your mouth waters looking at the forbidden food, aka anything that isn’t a plain cracker. Do you have any of those? Nope. How is it possible you don’t have a single thing you could possibly eat?

The trek across your apartment and back to your bed seems like it went on for miles and now you shake with chills, wrapping yourself up in the blanket as you text Wanda begging for her to come over with Gatorade, ginger ale and crackers.

You whimper out loud as you feel your stomach gurgling, it wants another round versus the toilet where you’re going to lose. By the time you come out again you’re sweating, shaking on weak legs as you cry yourself to sleep.

In another hour you’ve woken up, thankful for the returned text that she would come by before heading to work. After your latest round in the bathroom you trudge to the front door unlocking it, and move to your couch where you plop face down. You text Wanda, telling her the door is open, and try to shut your eyes until the inevitable happens. Because you know it’s going to happen again. For some reason you’ve been cursed and there’s nothing you can do about it but suffer.

You aren’t sure of how much time has passed but you hear your door opening, bags rustling in hand and the tiniest smile spreads across your face.

“Wandaaa, my butthole hurts,” you whined, lifting your head up off the couch slightly to groan even more. “It’s like a volcano that’s erupting hot brown lava. There’s so much of it Wan. It won’t stop. My ass is vomiting shit.”

“Wow Y/N, that’s quite a visual.”

Oh no. Panic surges through you when you realize that was not Wanda’s voice. A weak arm pushes you up from the couch where you turn around to find Bucky somehow looking at you in the eye after he heard your very blunt confession.

You’re stunned into silence, not knowing what to say because you had just said far too much than you ever wanted to. Suddenly you feel nauseous again but for a different reason.

Bucky shifted one of the bags he was holding into his other hand so he could send a small wave in your direction, trying not to burst out laughing as he said, “Hey neighbor.”

“B-Bucky, what are you doing here?” you asked, sinking back down onto the couch because you couldn’t support yourself anymore.

“Wanda texted me, said she wasn’t able to get these to you before work.” He set the bags down, walking closer to you and crouching down by the couch. “Are you okay?”

Your head shook a little before you answered. “No. I think I’m dying. I’m puking up my organs.”

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” he chuckled.

“My intestines, definitely my stomach… maybe a kidney or two.”

He cracked a beautiful smile that somehow made you feel better just by looking at it. Bucky reached the back of his hand out to feel your forehead. You were a little warm but you didn’t feel feverish.

“Well I’m here now and I brought all the good stuff you need. Will you let me help you?”

Tears filled your eyes as you replied, and Bucky smiled again. He emptied the bags in your kitchen, taking out a bottle of ginger ale, Gatorade, crackers and some instant white rice.

“How about a little ginger ale to settle your stomach, yeah?”

Bucky brought over a glass that was less than half filled. Sitting next to you, he helped you sit up and you waited for the room to stop spinning before you took a few small sips as he told you to. Your hand was shaking and Bucky took the glass from you before you spilled it.

You didn’t think a few sips of ginger ale would be a magical cure but you wished it would. You felt so shitty… which seemed fitting, but it really wasn’t funny. You leaned against Bucky, closing your eyes as you sighed in frustration. It was comforting to feel his arm around you, and hear his whispers that everything would be okay.

“Are you nauseous? Do you need to…”

“I just don’t feel good,” you cried against him.

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, wishing there was something more he could do for you. When Wanda texted him he had shot right up, threw on clothes and raced to the store. He wished you had asked him, that you were as close as you used to be but he understands why you might not have wanted him to know.

The briefest thought about Billy crosses his mind. Did you tell him? Was he going to come in and take care of you? Would you shove Bucky aside if he did? But Billy isn’t here, and Billy isn’t important. Right now this is about you and doing whatever he can to help.

“Hey doll, do you want to try and eat something?”

You barely process the nickname as you think about how your stomach is feeling. It’s still too early to try and eat so instead you ask for some Gatorade, hoping that might make you feel a little better.

Bucky brings it back, along with a wet washcloth he places on your neck, feeling your skin prickle at his touch as he moves aside the collar of your shirt. It’s a nice relief for the short while it lasts. You head back to the bathroom again but at least you didn’t vomit this time. You’re thankful since you’re really not sure you have the strength to even handle throwing up anymore.

Back on the couch you lay your head down on Bucky’s thigh, curling your body into a fetal position as he lays a throw blanket over you. You don’t realize when you’ve fallen asleep but you wake up at some time later to find the sky is lit in a golden glow of the afternoon sun. Bucky assists you with sitting up, helping you quell the dizziness with more sips of Gatorade and ginger ale.

You feel brave enough to eat, hoping that one single cracker will not send you back on the hell ride through your digestive tract. Bucky can’t help but smile as you nibble on the cracker slowly like a hamster.

“What did you eat that got you sick?” he wondered.

“New Italian place on 23rd and 8th. Bad chicken. I mean, I thought it was good at the time but I don’t think I’ll be going back again.”

“Good to know. I’m gonna cancel my plans tonight,” he said, digging his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah, definitely go somewhere else.”

“No, I’m cancelling the whole date.”

Your head spun as you turned it too fast to face Bucky. “You have a date tonight?”

His head shook before he began speaking. “Nope, not anymore. I want to stay here and take care of you.” You began to protest but Bucky insisted. “Y/N, I really want to do this. Please, let me help you.”

The fluttering in your stomach made you wonder if you needed to rush to the bathroom again but it didn’t feel the same as before. Instead you smiled softly, thankful to have Bucky’s kindness. It was nice to know someone wanted to take care of you.

In the moment you scanned the table for your phone, remembering the text you sent out this morning. Billy still hadn’t replied. Maybe he’s sick too or maybe… well you don’t have the energy to think otherwise at the moment.

Your mouth is watering, craving anything and everything that you can’t have. Even the drinks have to be sipped slowly otherwise you’ll set your stomach off again. It’s so unfair. Why is this happening? And why is every commercial food related?

“Bucky, can you change the channel?” you begged.

He switched it to a show about animals, that’s fine, that’s… not fine. The TV shows a raccoon eating delicious red grapes and you feel the tears begin to flood your eyes. You huff against Bucky’s leg, not bothering to change the channel because there was no point. You couldn’t eat and you probably never will again. Was that being dramatic? Maybe, but right now you’re not in the mood to think sensibly.

“I feel bad askin’ but is it okay if I order food? I know you can’t have any and I really don’t want to make this worse for ya.”

Bucky is staring at you with big blue eyes, hoping his small request isn’t too much of an offence at the moment. You almost wanted to say no but you couldn’t, it’s not Bucky’s fault you ate bad chicken.

“Pizza? Really?” you whined after he placed his order.

His eyes grew big with panic and he was about to call back and cancel his order before you stopped him.

“No, no. I’m sorry Bucky. It doesn’t matter what you eat, I’m gonna want everything so enjoy yourself.”

You pouted, grabbing the throw blanket to pull it over your shoulder as you adjusted your position of resting on his leg, shutting your eyes until he got up to answer the door when the pizza arrived.

“That smells really good,” you said, frowning as Bucky opened the box.

He was hesitant to take a bite, feeling guilty as you looked at him. “Can I make you anything? Think you could handle some rice?”

Your head shook and you took out another single cracker, chewing on it slowly as Bucky sat down beside you with a few slices.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. And when you’re up for it let’s get pizza. We still haven’t kept our promise.” Bucky’s mouth dropped open in response to your confused face. “Our pizza quest! Remember? Eat our way through the city to find the best pizza!”

“Oh yeah!” You smiled for the first time, bright and beaming across your face and Bucky was happy he was able to bring that out in you. “We definitely have to do that.”

The night continued with Bucky putting on Galaxy Quest for you both to watch. Halfway through the movie you went back to the bathroom, missing a call from Billy. Bucky couldn’t help but look over as your phone buzzed, seeing a picture of you and Billy smiling together.

A moment later a text came through and he knew he shouldn’t read it but he couldn’t help himself. Bucky looked towards the bathroom to check that you weren’t about to come out before he grabbed your phone, reading Billy’s text.

Billy: Wtf Y/N where are you? Did you remember the basketball game?

Bucky placed your phone back on the coffee table, remembering to unclench his jaw as your bathroom door opened. What an asshole. He didn’t even ask how you were.

“Your phone rang,” Bucky reluctantly said as you sat down again.

He watched as you read the text, typing back furiously. Another buzz and you were responding to Billy again, your face getting angrier the longer the back and forth messaging went on.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” you said, tossing your phone on the table. “Let’s put the movie on.”

You got comfortable against Bucky, ignoring the buzz of your phone. The texts didn’t stop coming in and you tried your best to ignore it and pay attention to the movie but Bucky could clearly see you were upset.

“You can answer that if you need to.”

“I really don’t want to. Billy’s so concerned about wasting money on tickets, not once has he even mentioned the fact that I’m sick. Did he not get my messages?”

Bucky bit his tongue, not wanting to say something he might end up regretting, especially if this isn’t the end of you and Billy like he hoped. Why would he hope that? He’s dating now. Or at least he thought he was.

He cancelled his date with Bobbi tonight without hesitation, just so he could take care of you. She seemed cool about it, asking if he was free tomorrow and Bucky agreed to another date but the longer you stay curled up beside him the less interest he has in wanting to see anyone.

The warmth of your body against his lulled Bucky into a deep sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable, slumped on the couch in a mostly sitting position but he didn’t want to move, not when you had fallen asleep before him. You were exhausted from everything you went through so your sleep was more important to him than the cramp that developed in his neck overnight.

You woke up, slowly opening your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them as you realized you weren’t in your bed but on the couch resting your head against Bucky. You watched the rise and fall of his stomach through the soft sweater he wore, the one that most certainly left tiny marks on your cheek from leaning against it.

Looking up at Bucky you smiled at the way his head was tilted to the side, eyes shut peacefully as small puffs of breath left his mouth. You thought about everything Bucky had done for you, what was supposed to be a simple task of dropping off ginger ale and crackers turned into his whole day being rearranged just to take care of you.

You wanted to do something nice for him in return, it’s something you’ll have to think about when your head’s not as light as it feels. Slowly you begin to sit up, taking a few sips of Gatorade from the bottle that was left on the table. You feel… better but still not great.

It’s daring but you aim to eat two crackers, hoping it won’t set off your stomach. It was grumbling with hunger but you knew better than to give in with actual food even though you were craving pancakes.

After sitting up for a while you didn’t think you felt dizzy anymore so you got up slowly. You felt the weakness in your legs as they carried you across the room but at least your trip to the bathroom was normal. A regular pee was a lot better than everything else that came out of you yesterday.

“G’morning,” Bucky said mid-yawn as you opened the door, seeing his sweater rise up to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach as he stretched his arms out.

“Morning Bucky.” You smiled as you made your way beside him again, reaching your arm across his stomach as you settled back against him, nuzzling your head on his chest.

Bucky loved this but absolutely hated that he needed to use the bathroom and therefore ruin the way you cuddled up against him. “I’m sorry doll. I’ll be quick,” he said, rushing up off the couch.

Doll. You liked that nickname. It was a little on the old fashioned side but it was endearing. Billy called you babe which was fine and all but it definitely didn’t have the same effect as doll. The thought of Billy made you roll your eyes. You would have to speak to him today but you really didn’t want to.

“Alright, where were we?”

Bucky’s voice rang out as he opened the door, walking back towards the couch. He moved his neck from side to side to crack it before he sat down again, letting you cozy up to him.

“How’re you feelin’ today?”

“Better. I think I might try some rice later.”

“Just let me know and I’ll make it.” There was no hesitation in his offer, just pure tenderness in wanting you to get better.

The morning was spent cuddling on the couch until Bucky’s stomach began grumbling worse than yours. He got up to make himself something while you insisted you weren’t ready for anything more than crackers and ginger ale yet.

“I’m gonna take your garbage out and head home for a quick shower. You think you’ll be okay? I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks Bucky.”

He was thankful you didn’t tell him not to come back. You seemed much better than yesterday and you probably didn’t need him but Bucky really didn’t want to leave. Sure he had work to do but this was more important. He wouldn’t have been able to get you off his mind anyway so he might as well be useful.

During Bucky’s absence you debated talking to Billy, knowing it would probably end up in a fight but you didn’t have the strength to do that yet. Besides, you hadn’t done anything wrong so there is no need for you to be chasing him down.

With the little energy you had you decided to freshen up. While splashing your face with some water you noticed the broken blood vessels in your eyes, the result of straining so much to throw up. Fun stuff.

It was a bit of a struggle to get undressed and changed into new pajamas and you had to lay down in your bed before the room stopped spinning. Thankfully Bucky had come back and was able to help you.

He handed the glass of Gatorade to you, rubbing slow circles of comfort on your back that seemed so natural for him.

“You need to eat something Y/N. Think you’re up for some rice now?” he asked softly, gazing at you with concern as he awaited your answer. You gave a simple nod and Bucky leapt up to get it started.

The burn of tears rushed to your eyes as you thought about Bucky. He was so eager to make sure you were okay, taking out your garbage that was filled with various bags full of vomit without hesitation, spending every minute of his weekend just to take care of you. He even cancelled a date.

Something inside your stomach twisted at the thought of Bucky actually dating someone. It’s not like him sleeping with someone was a surprise to you but apparently in the last month you’ve drifted apart from him, unaware he had started to date people instead of just sleeping with them. You’re not so sure why this makes you feel so… well, you’re not really sure how you feel about it but you know you feel something.

None of this should matter though. You have been dating someone for two months. Someone you thought you loved but this past weekend has taught you a lot about Billy. Not only has his change in demeanor put you off but the fact that he hasn’t shown any concern for you over this weekend really makes you want to end your relationship.

Bucky happily brought over a small bowl of white rice. There wasn’t much in there to begin with but you could only manage a few teaspoons before you had to stop. The worst part of it all is that you were so hungry but you really couldn’t eat much, and certainly couldn’t chance upsetting your stomach anymore no matter how badly you wanted to shovel the rice down your mouth.

The afternoon was spent on your couch again, cuddled up against Bucky as you continued to watch movies. His arm was around your shoulder and occasionally you felt his hand rub up and down over the curve of your arm. You smiled against him, letting yourself enjoy however long you could have Bucky like this.

In the back of your mind you thought about him dating again. Whoever he ends up with would be the luckiest girl ever, to have someone as kind and caring as Bucky take care of them as he has been with you. You chew on your bottom lip remembering the shared kiss on New Year’s Eve. Yeah, it was safe to say you would be completely jealous of any girl that ends up with him.

While attempting to have a little more rice you watched Bucky respond to his phone that had gone off a few times. It was hard not to glance over at him, imagining what pretty girl he was probably talking to.

What you didn’t know was Bucky was talking to a girl, Bobbi, cancelling the plans they had rescheduled for today. He didn’t bother to reschedule again and Bucky knew it was stupid not to but somehow the weekend he’s spent on your couch made him lose all enthusiasm for dating someone. Logic tried to reason with him, remind him that you were in a relationship but it was hard to deny the way he felt about you, how he’s been feeling for a long time now.

Bucky can’t stop staring at you, watching as you finish up the rice from earlier. He’s hated seeing you in pain but being able to help you this weekend has been such an honor.

As the sun set you realized you were not at all prepared to go back to work tomorrow. You probably could use another day off but since you weren’t throwing up anymore you wanted to at least give it a shot. Besides, Tony had been relying on you a lot recently with the logistics of getting The September Foundation prepared and you didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

“I need to take a shower.” As you stood up you felt a little dizzy and Bucky had his arms around you just in case. After a moment of a few deep breaths you felt a little better. “I’m okay,” you assured him.

Bucky didn’t quite believe that so he poured more Gatorade and handed you the glass.

“I’m not leaving you.” Bucky wiped his hand down his face realizing how forceful that sounded. “I mean, I won’t leave until you get out okay? I don’t want you to slip and fall or anything.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case but now I feel like I’ve jinxed myself,” you joked. Having Bucky hear your vivid description of shitting was bad enough, you really didn’t want him to find you passed out in the shower.

Bucky lowered the volume of the TV to barely above mute, wanting to listen out for anything out of the ordinary. He heard the shower turn on and a minute later the curtain pulling as you stepped in.

A text from Sam pulled his attention away from listening and he opened the message, his jaw clenched as he scanned the photo attached. It was Billy, with his arm around another girl. She was short with dark hair pulled into a bun, dressed professionally and Bucky questioned if he was jumping the gun at thinking the worst. Maybe she worked with Billy or maybe it was his sister.

The next text that came through proved his theories wrong. Sam captioned the picture of Billy kissing the girl with “Asshole.”

Bucky: I’m with Y/N now. She’s been sick all wknd I don’t think she knows about this.

Sam: Do you want to tell her or should I have Wanda come by? She’s ready to rip his head off.

Bucky: So am I Bucky: Fuck. Bucky: idk maybe Wanda should talk to her?

There was nothing Bucky wanted more than to tell you what an asshole Billy was but he didn’t want to be accused of using it to his advantage in any way. Bucky would be there with everyone else to support you through this but as a friend only. You deserved better than Billy no matter who you ended up with.

“Bucky!”

The sound of your voice in distress makes him pop up from the couch. He runs to the door, fear coursing through his veins as he hopes you’re okay. Inside the steamy bathroom he finds your head poking out through the shower curtain, the rest of it pulled close to your body not to reveal yourself.

“I forgot to grab a towel,” you said, smiling. “They’re over there.” A bare arm slick with water points behind him and he grabs a towel from a shelf. “Thanks,” you said, taking it from him, watching as he nods awkwardly before shutting the door.

Bucky’s cheeks are flushed from the brief humidity and the sight of seeing you in the shower. Well, not that he saw anything but just the idea of it has his heart racing.

Ten minutes later and you were out of the bathroom, changed into new pajamas, these ones covered with a cute cactus print, brushing through your still wet hair.

Silence filled the room as you finished your post shower routine of putting on a variety of moisturizers and facial sprays and Bucky felt like he had overstayed his welcome. You were winding down even though it was still early, and truthfully he had a weekend’s worth of work to catch up on.

“So there’s more rice on the counter, plus an unopened bottle of ginger ale too, and if you need anything else you know where I live.” He chuckled uncomfortably at his bad joke. “Really though if you need me please call me okay? I’ll come running.”

He didn’t mean to sound so desperate but it was true.

“Thank you so much for everything Bucky.” You threw your arms around him for a hug, melting deeper into him as he wrapped his arms around your body.

Neither of you realized the other didn’t want to let go but you made the move to reluctantly pull apart. Bucky had spent his whole weekend doting on you, you didn’t want to force him to stay any longer.

Bucky smiled as he gazed upon you, the way your eyes shifted down before staring back up at him. He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to your forehead and a surge of electricity went racing through you. His kiss lingered and the longer he made contact with your skin the more you wanted to press your lips to his.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, walking away slowly towards the door.

Your heart was caught in your throat as you locked it behind him, letting out a deep, longing sigh, and the realization that you might have feelings for Bucky.

PART 15

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #billy russo x reader

793 notes · View notes

the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Folded messages

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 4900 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, swearing.

Requested by: Anon

Hello!! I just recently read you 11 Five fic and I have to say it was incredible. I have no words to describe it, your writing is so good💖💖 with that, I was wondering if you did fics based on songs, if you do, would you mind doing a 5xreader based on “sway with me” by Micheal Buble? Idk what the plot could be, maybe they are in a mission from commission and have to go to a fancy ballroom. Maybe they are enemies. Maybe reader pulls him to dance around S2. The choices are endless, go crazy :”)

A/N: Finally I found time to write! I've had insomnia for too long because I couldn't write! Damn day job!

On a better note, I really hope you guys like this little piece of fluff 💜 I swear, this started as a small idea and then it just got bigger and bigger. Sorry not sorry!

Was it even possible? The prospect of falling in love for someone of his nature was almost as high as his targets' survival rate. He wasn't an emotional man, his feelings were deeply buried in the depth of his heavily guarded heart, locked away in a three inches thick chest that was itself hidden in an impossible maze where traumas and demons were furiously protecting the paths.

Add this to the fact that he never saw her, not even once, the only proof of her existence being the small animals made of colorful folded paper that appears in his jacket pockets whenever he crossed her path, the possibilities of developing such feelings were in no way probable. The origami aside, the woman seemingly took pleasure in throwing wrenches into his work. He was asked to assassinate a brilliant inventor who was getting too close to discovering the secrets of time-traveling? It would have been an easy job if it wasn’t that every single bullet he had in his possession suddenly disappeared, forcing him to finish the job with his knife.

There was another time, he was tasked with the termination of a group of people meeting in the back of a bar, his guns were loaded, his knives were sharpened, he was full of juice, there was no way that this job would take more than one minute and forty-three seconds. He made his way to the door leading to the room hosting his targets when he noticed a small dark purple llama on the door handle. He pocketed the folded piece of paper for later and tried the handle to find out that it wouldn't even turn on itself. The assassin rolled his eyes at the futile attempt to keep him from completing his mission, he closed his hands into fists but his ability decided to fail at this right moment.

The door behind him closed on a loud banging noise, a delicate click following closely behind, indicating that the door was locked from the other side. Five remembers it clear as day, the moment he knew he had found his equal. He heard you giggling lightly on the other side of the door and his heart started speeding up. Not in anger, not in annoyance nor in embarrassment. He couldn't say what it was, but he knew for sure that he wanted more of it.

It happened four times, you making his job more challenging and him receiving a small gift before Five decided to do some research. In a box carefully concealed under the double bottom of his drawer were stored every paper animal he found during his missions along with books about origami and colors.

An olive green and lavender cat, a dark blue dragon, an orange fish and a dark purple llama were now aligned on his desk in order of acquisition. The different books were opened on different pages and then Five started his information gathering. He scribbled in his notebook the different significance associated to each color and animal and an hour and a half later, he was contemplating his findings.

The cat was a symbol of independence and mystery among other things. Its olive-green body with the patches of lavender told him that the first gift was, in fact, a peace offering from a feminine person. Her very own olive branch that he took long enough to decipher.

Then there was the dragon, symbol of power, wisdom, mastery and success. The dark shade of blue told him that the dragon was full of knowledge, power and seriousness. He frowned, thinking and slightly hoping that maybe this was how she saw him.

He didn't know what to think of the orange fish. Happiness, freedom and energy. He couldn't relate to this one, having not been free for many years now as stipulated by his contract with the Commission. He was a slave, used for his ability and his will to do everything to survive one more day and save his family from their imminent doom.

Maybe the fish was a reference to yourself. This was the only explanation he could find. You were a young adult from what he deduced of your giggles and were pretty happy and free if the folded paper was anything to go by.

The last gift proved that Five's theory stipulating that every origami was a metaphor about yourself and himself was correct.

A dark purple llama. An animal representing hard work, endurance under difficult situations and responsibility. His heart accelerated at the possibility that you knew that he was trying to buy some time and betray his employer sooner than later. Would you rat him out? He really hoped that the olive cat meant that you were on his side and not against him, he would really hate to put an end to the warm feeling dancing in his chest whenever he realized that you were around and ready to play a trick on him.

Now if he followed your logic, the next one he will receive will say more about yourself and he couldn't wait to be assigned to another mission so that he had a chance to learn more about you or even possibly see you. You, his little time traveler. Five had thought about this for the longest of time and he came to the conclusion that you were indeed a time traveler. The Commission kept very close control over their briefcase so there was no way that you had one in your possession, he would know, after all, he checked the lost briefcases records and they were all reported destroyed.

To his dismay, his next mission was uneventful. He got in and got out. No hiccup, no paper animal. Nothing. It went like this for his next six missions and with every passing success, Five found himself getting irritated. Every night he found himself chasing your shadow in his dreams and every time you managed to evade his attempts at catching you. One morning when even his first coffee of the day wasn't enough to ease his frustration, he thought of a plan that would allow him to finally see you.

To avoid making his kills personal, Five always prioritized a long-range way to kill, meaning with guns. Guns had a way to remove all responsibilities off his shoulder and lighten his soul at the end of the day. He had enough demons consuming more and more of his conscience on a daily basis, he definitely could do without this kind of remorse. Sure, he was the one who pulled the trigger, but ultimately, it was the bullet that killed the target, not his hands.

But tonight, Five decided that he would complete his mission with the idea that you were around. If you were, then he would finally meet you. If not, he would need something strong to accompany his coffee. Whiskey maybe.

He abandoned his prized sniper in the deserted building next to the one his target was currently dancing in and made his way to a back door. There he space-jumped inside the building and quickly blended himself with the crowd. He found himself straightening his suit in the case you were around and made his way to the bar.

A glass of whiskey in hand, Five turned his back to the counter and analyzed the crowd in search of his wealthy bastard who was enjoying his very last evening on this Earth. There he was, dancing around, totally unconcerned of the people around him.

Unconsciously, Five reached into his pockets where the gifts usually appeared out of thin air, his fingers searching around as they did a hundred times before but ultimately finding nothing. With a frustrated groan, Five grabbed his glass, emptied its content in one gulp, smashed the glass back on the counter and pushed his way to his target. Another night without your little schemes meaning another night chasing your shadow in his sleep. If this was how the night would unfold, then he wanted to finish this quickly.

Five's hand reached for his target, grabbed a hold of his upper arm and pulled him in a nearby hallway before jumping the both of them in the nearby abandoned building where his weapons were patiently waiting for him.

Five turned around to face his target, knife in hand and ready to strike when his breath caught in his throat and every muscle in his body contracted, stopping every movement. Where his prey stood mere milliseconds ago was now an elegant woman in a beautiful gown, all smile and giggling at his reaction. He knew it was you the second he heard your giggles, causing his heart to skip a beat and his fingers to let go of the sharp weapon.

He stopped himself from moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear, instead choosing to release his grip on your arm and take a step away. You were too beautiful, so much more beautiful than what he imagined, with your shining eyes, your soft-looking hair, your perfectly curved body, he tried to burn every detail into his memory.

"Dance with me?" You asked, closing the distance and reaching for his hand. Your movement got him out of his thoughts and everything came back full force. The mischievous glint into your eyes caused a smirk to form on his lips.

"You just want to keep me from my job." And you were doing a magnificent job at it.

"Is it working?" You batted your eyelashes in an innocent way, making Five roll his eyes before he positioned your hands correctly and pull your body so that you were almost touching each other.

You smiled in satisfaction, following his steps flawlessly on a tempo only he could hear. The blue-eyed man enjoyed the silent minute, savoring the feeling of your soft skin cradled into his palm and the warmth of your waist radiating through the fabric under his opposite hand. The comfortable silence was soon replaced by a soft song playing in the background, stopping Five in his tracks and almost causing you to fall if it wasn’t for his strong arms keeping you up and close.

Five eyes finally left your face and widened at the new scenery surrounding him. The once dusty floor was now pristine and exempt of all the trash and needles that were once lingering around, the tagged walls were perfectly painted in a new shade of light grey, giving the room a nice glow under the gleam of the light strings hanging from the ceiling.

Five didn’t know his mouth had opened in awe before you chuckled and your hand left his shoulder to caress his chin, effectively causing him to close it.

"I take it that you like it?" Your eyes were shining under the soft lights and the pride he saw in them almost got a smile out of him.

"You made this?" He was still stunned about the complete makeover of the room. Even the lingering moldy smell disappeared, letting a pleasant smell floating around in its place.

"You’re not the first one the Commission took a liking to, ya know. I’m kinda like an illusionist, but my stuff is the real deal. They saw my potential and offered me a job, which I refused and they’ve been on my tail ever since." You shrugged, replacing your hand at its rightful place on his shoulder.

Five was truly amazed by the woman standing in front of him. Her ability had so many possibilities and she managed to escape the Commission for seemingly a long time. Add this to the fact that she can time-travel and play tricks on the best assassin this planet has ever seen, Five has never been so interested in someone like that before, not even Dolores who has been his everything for many years.

"I can see why they were interested in you." He resumed his dancing, this time following the rhythm of the soft music playing around them. "Having two abilities is pretty rare."

You shook your head, before clarifying. "I only have one. I don't know where you get the second one from." You frowned in confusion, which reflected on his own face.

"But you time-travel." He remembered finding the folded fish in the 1800s, the dragon around the 1950s and today was September 23th, 1987.

"Yeah, the same way as you. With a briefcase." You nodded toward the black briefcase neatly placed near the window. Five only got more and more confused.

"But they were all dest-" He cut himself at your cheeky grin. "You created your very own. Impressive."

"Thank you." You were beaming at that point and Five felt proud that he was the source of your happiness.

The slow song ended but neither of you stopped moving your feet in unison. Five was enjoying himself like never before and he wasn't in a hurry to end it. The corner of his lips quirked upward when he realized that you pressed yourself against him when the song ended, your way of saying that you didn't want this to end either.

You silently danced the second song in its entirety, living every second like everything would disappear at any moment. Five was scared that this was a one night deal and that he would never see you again. Why did you reveal yourself tonight of any other night?

Before he gathered the courage to ask you, the song reached its end and a completely different kind of music floated in the air.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

Five pulled away slightly, not much, only to be able to see the sheepish smile on your lips. "I love this song." Was your only answer to his frowned brows.

Five laughed softly before stepping away and made you spin. He pulled you back to him, your melodious laugh bouncing around him like the greatest melody ever written.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

It was clear that neither of you knew how to dance on this song, but you didn't care. You were both moving around freely, Five making you spin from time to time.

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you

Only you have that magic technique

When we sway I go weak

Five's heart was beating quickly, not because of the physical exercise, he was trained to accomplish way more than dancing without breaking a sweat, but because the sight of your delighted face stroked something deep within himself. A primal need. The need of a life partner. Someone who he could trust blindly and love without holding back.

I can hear the sounds of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth, sway me now

A too-quick step made you trip on your own feet, in an attempt to keep you on your feet Five reached for your arms but it was already too late. Instead of helping, Five only unbalanced you more leading you to fall to the ground and drag the man with you. Thanks to his sharp reflexes, Five caught himself on his forearms before he crushed your small form under his larger one.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

For a moment the assassin's heart stopped in fear. He hasn't felt afraid in years and it definitely wasn't a feeling he had missed. Your laugh flicked a switch in his heart, making it beat again in an erratic rhythm that he was almost embarrassed of. He guessed that if feeling that good meant that sometimes he was going to be afraid, it wasn't a big deal. He could deal with his fears if at the end of the day you were fine and happy in his arms.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

"I'm so sorry Five!" You managed to say after catching your breath. Tears rolled from your eyes and into your hair, the reflection of the lights above creating stars in your eyes.

"It's fine." Was all he could say, for his brain had stopped working when he realized that only a couple of centimeters separated the two of you. His body started heating up to his dismay, Five pushed on his arms and sit on his heels to help you sit up.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Hold me close, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

"Thanks." You muttered while passing a hand through your messy hair.

The sound of a metallic object falling on the ground made you jump. Five frowned, confused as to why the Commission would send him another assignment right now and not wait until his return.

"What was that?" You whispered.

"My employer." He was beyond annoyed by the interruption. They couldn't have chosen a worse time than tonight.

Offering you a helping hand, Five got up and helped you when your hand closed on his. He couldn't stop himself, he enlaced his fingers through yours, the tightness of your grip made him chuckle.

"Don't worry, they are not here." He lightly hit the wall near the window with the underside of his fist, searching for a spot on the wall that wasn't hollow. When he found it, he searched for the dissimulated door and took the canister with his name written on it.

Releasing your hand, Five opened the canister, took the folded paper and read the words. Terminate Y/N L/N. How was he supposed to terminate someone he didn't even know? This job was so frustrating! He folded back the paper, storing it in his pants pocket. This would have to wait. He turned back to you and the sight bring a genuine smile to his lips.

You were smiling at something outside the window, the light of the moon joined to the string lights gave you an angelic glow. He would have loved to contemplate you longer, but duty called and he now had two targets instead of one.

"I have to go." He didn't dare say it too loud, maybe time would stop and let him live this perfect night for all eternity.

You turned around with a small smile on your lips. He could see that you were disappointed even though you nodded like it was nothing. "Well, tonight couldn't go on forever." You walked up to him, with each one of your steps Five felt himself growing weak in the knees. Oh how he didn't want to go. "It's fine. I'll find you again." At that, you tenderly reached for his cheek while your lips pressed a delicate kiss on the other one, stealing his breath.

You giggled, surely at the blush covering his cheeks and walked away, the illusion fading along with your steps. Just as you were about to walk down the stairs, Five remembered something.

"Wait! I didn't get your name!" He quickly space-jumped in front of you to block your path.

"Y/N L/N." Her smile dropped when a dark expression fell on his face. Even if he tried, he couldn’t have repressed it, the surprise and the anger were too much.

"You have to leave." He didn’t know how they found her, he always made sure he didn’t have any bug on himself before going on a mission.

"N-not that I wasn’t doing that anyway, but w-why the long face?" His fingers twitched at the waver in your voice. It wasn’t his intention to scare you, even less to scare you off.

"The Commission knows you’re here. I don't know how, but they know." Five was starting to get tired of them pretty quickly. Maybe one day he would get out of there with explosions resonating through the hallways. Maybe he could use grenades. Yeah, grenades were good.

You started to walk down the stairs when you stopped and turned to him, one last time. "Be careful."

Five smirked although your concern was touching. "I should be the one telling you that."

With one last giggle, you walked out of his sight. Five returned to his very first task of the night, took place at his spot by the window and finished the initial job.

Back at the Commission that night, Five removed his jacket, eager to go to bed and find himself dancing in your arms again to the sound of soft slow music. A sound caught his attention when he threw his jacket on the back of his chair, the sound of crumbling paper.

His hands searched his pocket, grabbing the grey fox that somehow found its way into his jacket without him noticing. A smile stretched his lips before he carefully slipped the fox under his pillow and went to bed.

A whole year passed before the next animal appeared in his pocket. As frustrated as he was of being away from you for a whole year, Five knew why this was necessary. The Commission was close on your tail. Apparently, he wasn't the only agent tasked of your termination and some got lucky enough to find your location but not enough to hurt you.

The whole year he kept tabs on the Commission's information on you and kept worrying that someday he would find a red stamp crossing out your picture. As of today, his worst nightmare hasn't yet come true, so he pushed his worry aside and continued his job.

He assembled his sniper, preparing himself to kill the president of the United States in 1963 when something hit him in the head. It didn't hurt or anything, it was light as a leaf. Frowning, Five pulled away from the scope of his weapon to discover a brown frog made of folded paper lying on the ground next to his feet.

Receiving one of your signature gift after all that time caused his heart to skyrocket in his chest. All those feelings he had repressed, fearing that one day you would be gone for good and that he would definitely be alone in this cruel world, came rushing back at full speed, making him drop his gun and look around for you.

You weren't far, waving at him with a tired smile on your face, dark shadows marking the underside of your eyes. He didn't take the time to run, simply jumping to you and engulfing your body into his arms.

Many times he thought about how much he had fallen for you after only one dancing night and five tricks followed by origamis. If it were someone else, he would have told them that they were being stupidly influenced by their primal urges that forced them to find a partner and procreate, for this was the circle of life since the dawn of time. In his case, he knew it was much more than that. It was more important to him than a need to procreate. He had found his equal, someone that sparked an insatiable interest in him and showed him that there was way more in this life than what he originally knew.

Five tensed as soon as he heard the first sobs. Immediately he started to scan your body for wounds or blood, anything to show that you were hurt. However, his analysis was cut short by both your hands cradling his cheeks.

"I'm fine. I'm just real' tired and I'm so happy to see you." Your arms wrapped around his neck forcing Five to hug your body closer. Not that he minded.

He whispered words of reassurance into your hair while thinking of what to do next. You couldn't keep fleeing the Commission alone, not in your state. They would catch up to you in no time and he couldn't have that. He couldn't say that he killed you to get them off your back, the higher-ups would request physical proof of your death. It only left him with his last resort. He would have liked to find the good variable, but time was against him so he would have to deal with it.

"I have a plan, don't worry." He dried her tears with his thumb when she lifted her head to look into his eyes. "I'll get us out of here."

You managed a smile before chuckling. "I know. Why do you think I gave you a brown frog? A frog to ensure a safe return of your journey and brown for home."

Five shook his head, once again amazed at how perfectly you could read him despite everyone else describing him as unpredictable.

He grabbed your hands in his, mentally reciting the equation he passed the last 45 years developing. Before the portal appeared, Five stopped everything in a hurry, scaring the shit out of you. He let go of your hands for two seconds, enough time for him to run back at his sniper, grab the brown frog and run back at you. You rolled your eyes when he secured the frog in his jacket pocket, quickly saying that it has sentimental value, before concentrating on the portal again.

The blue vortex appeared, its power pushing them away. It took every ounce of strength into Five's body to pull you with him through the portal, your weakened state left you helpless in front of the blue resistance.

Five did his best to catch you during the fall, your body falling directly on top of his, stealing his breath for a moment.

You managed to roll off of him, allowing him to take a nice bowl of air to fill his lungs. He made it. You weren't 100% safe, but he could have help now. He cou-

"Five." The worry in your voice along with your hand closing tightly on his forearm pushed him to sit up quickly and find the source of the danger. He understood your reaction when his eyes fell on his siblings who looked like hell.

"You guys didn't change one bit." He deadpanned. His usual unimpressed face was back in service at the gaping fish-like faces of his siblings.

"We should be the one telling you that. You haven't aged at all!" Klaus yelled, his outstretched arms moving up and down in his direction.

Confused, Five glanced at his body and realization hit him like a brick. He knew something wasn't right!

Your repressed giggles caught his attention, he found your 13 years old body, a hand on your mouth desperately trying to keep a full-on laugh in. He couldn't help but notice how much more tired you looked in your younger self.

"It's not funny." Was all he said before he spacial-jumped the two of you to his old bedroom. There he guided you to the bed where he helped you get under the covers and watched you get comfortable.

"It is funny." Five scoffed and went to the door, knowing his siblings were gathered behind it and very probably listening to their conversation. He hit the door with his foot and as expected, Klaus yelled in pain, complaining about his hurting ear.

"I'll be downstairs to talk in a few minutes so get lost." He told them through the door. He was awarded by some angry muttering and finally, fading footsteps.

He walked back to your side when he was sure that everyone went on their merry way, sitting on the nearby chair with your hand in his.

"You need to rest. You'll be safe here." He kissed your hand at your tired smile. "I'll stay until you fall asleep, that okay?" You nodded, already your eyelids seemed pretty heavy.

"I missed you Five."

You were out in less than two minutes, your breathing became deeper and slower, your facial muscles relaxed and your mouth opened slightly allowing Five to hear your even respiration.

The boy didn't notice exactly when it happened, but the demons were now silent and the traumas shrank in size, forming a clear path toward the center of the maze that was his heart. There, the three inches thick chest that was protecting his feelings was now wide open, strings were delicately wrapped around them, not too tight as to not suffocate them, but with just enough contact so that he could permanently feel her affection enveloping him.

"I missed you too."

[A/N] This passed SO close to having an angsty ending! So close! I figured you guys had enough angst with 11 already… and the part 2 that's coming next.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #the boy #tua #tua s1 #tua s2 #the umbrella academy

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rosecolouredmind · 3 years

Text

Savior

Nicholas Scratch x Reader

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Part Three:

The Broken Boy

Now there were two.

Or at least, the only sounds being made now were the quiet sobs still being let out from the poor figure now in front of you.

You’d sent Lucifer away with a banishment sigil, though with how powerful he was and your lack of familiarity with your domain, he should be back soon. You felt a lot more drained than you did when you first came in, the spell taking a lot out of you. You now realized that your visit came with a time limit, and would only last as long as the remaining energy in your core did. The flesh acheron had you currently separated from the stars, so it was only natural that your power was unable to replenish itself here.

But at least, now you were alone with the boy.

You exerted a bit more power to make the space a more welcoming, eliminating the eerie red scenery in exchange for something milder. An endless white replaced it in a flash; you weren’t exactly a living human for long and didn’t know much about what comforted them, you realized glumly.

It seemed as if they boy didn’t notice the change in scenery, failing to even flinch. Back and forth, back and forth. He endlessly rocked as mumbled jargon poured listlessly from his mouth. Though it isn’t your first time pitying humans, this was the first time that you were face to face with the cruelty Fate was capable of. The sentiment fed into your growing discomfort with the situation.

Cautiously, you drew closer. Once you stopped in front of him, you slowly lowered yourself until you were truly able to look him in the face.

Dampened hair stuck to his forehead, pale and leaking a cold sweat. Raised goosebumps clearly visible over taught muscles were felt under your fingertips, gently stroking his arm in comfort.

A sharp gasp and a quick hand nearly made you yelp out in shock yourself, your wrist now held in a tight grasp. Panicked eyes met your own, dark and deep and boding. You felt your very soul tremble as if it were crying, as if you were crying.

It wasn’t until you noticeably felt a liquid drop culminate at the tip of your nose before splattering did you realize that you were.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you cooed, attempting to make eye contact.

Your gaze meets frantic mirrors of desperation, anguish and torture reflecting in the muddy pools that stared back at you.

As if it was natural to you, your hands rise to caress his face. His skin feels warm beneath your fingers, and you hold back a shudder. Concentrating, you focused deep on the constant thrumming of your soul and willed your core to mimic these pulsations through your body and out your fingertips, your hands now glowing the color of moonlight.

You can’t undo what Lucifer has done and possibly will do to him, but you were confident that you could make your presence a beacon and relieve some of the burden for him.

The boy leaned into your hands, and for a long while you just watched entranced as his eyelids fluttered while he took the time he needed to calm down. Finally, he looked up at you. The panic had now been replaced with sheer exhaustion, and you wanted nothing more than to protect him.

“Who are you?” he croaked, eyes flooding in tears. They flowed silently down his face, following familiar track marks of the rivers before them. His fingers tightened around yours, afraid of letting go. Afraid that if he let go, you would disappear. This was the first time he felt relief in what felt like an eternity, and all he could focus on was the figure in front him. You paid no mind to his tight grip, electing to settle yourself between his knees, getting as close as you possibly could.

“I’m here to help you, it’s okay,” you repeat softly.

“Wh-where did he go? The...the Dark Lord,” he quivered, muscles tensing up at the mere thought of the man. You felt your heart go out to him, your own eyes becoming misty as well.

“I sent him...away. He will return, but not for a while at least.”

Of course you couldn’t separate them completely, this was still in part Lucifer’s mind as well, and you had an inkling that although this wasn’t the actual place, the flesh acheron, this boy’s body, was somewhere in Hell. Your energies felt off, as if they didn’t belong. That would normally only happen in a territory outside of the scope of a stela’s domain, and Hell fit that description perfectly.

Your powers weren’t nearly as strong here, and you could only offer him temporary reprieve. But it is something, and that’s all that matters.

“What’s your name?” you question, intending on keeping him present and away from the dark, straying thoughts no doubt threatening to plague his mind. He stayed silent for a while, attempting to anchor himself while he focused on the near healing effect you radiated.

“...It’s Nick,” he eventually responded.

“Okay, Nick, tell me. What makes you happy?”

Nick thought for a long while, but couldn’t gather his thoughts. His mind had been ravaged so thoroughly by the Dark Lord that any notions of happiness had long since been replaced by terrors he could only have imagined before being tortured by Satan himself. He started to shake his head, then more and more vigorously. You reached for his face again, realizing your question set off another round of panic.

“That’s okay Nick, you don’t have to think about it. How about we go somewhere that makes me happy instead, hm?”

Your creativity and knowledge of the human mind was close to zero, but there was once place you’d always wanted to see.

You had Nick close his eyes as you closed your own, visualizing the sights and sounds you wanted to experience. Soon, the soothing crash of waves could be heard in the background, your eyes opening to an expanse of sand being gently eroded by the clear blue water of the ocean. You felt a bit weaker at the manifestation, but the boy in your arms was even more so, and your heart went out to him.

You shifted yourself so Nick’s forehead was now resting on your chest, giving him all the time he needed to settle before he opened his eyes again.

His breathing was deeper now, and less erratic. You waited for it to become completely even before you attempted to speak again, Nick lifting his head in order to study your features.

“I’ve always wanted to see the ocean,” you sigh gently. “I wasn’t able to when I was human.”

“Why not?” he asked quizzically, resulting in a smile from you. You were glad he was speaking, and continued to talk before he got distracted again.

“I died very, very young. I hadn’t really even started my life before the Fates took me for their purpose,” you explained. “And after that, well, I never really thought I’d see Earth again so there wasn’t much of a point.”

You tried coaxing more out of him, like his name, likes, dislikes. His answers were simple, and he had to think about some a lot longer than others, but he put effort into answering each question. You continued to describe your ties to fate to him as he patiently listened. He nodded along thoughtfully, before going quiet again.

“Nick?” you question, worry laced in your tone.

“Is this really what Fate had planned for me?” he asked quietly, looking down at his knees. Tears instantly blurred your vision once again, but you didn’t acknowledge them.

“No, sweetie, of course not,” you grab his face once again. His watery eyes mirror yours, yet you refused to let the first one fall.

“Your fate is so much more than this. This is only temporary. You have to believe me on that.” you urge.

“But I’m tired,” the sheer amount of hopelessness emitted off him in waves. “I don’t think I can make it,” the break in his voice was enough to collapse the dam on your tears, and you clutched him to your chest.

“No, baby, no. You can. You’re strong. I’ll be here for you. I’ll come back.”

“You promise?” he cracked.

“I promise.”

You held him for a while longer, shushing him against the rumble of the waves as you stared out at the water. You’d never felt more determined to do something in your life, but you will save this boy. You meant it with your heart and soul.

A while later you felt your figure start to fade, and you knew your borrowed time in Hell had reached its end. Nick frantically began clutching at you, using one hand to caress your face like you had his, “Will you really come back?”

Begging eyes pinned your soul down and for the first time in your life, you cursed the fates. Cursed how they could allow this boy to suffer far more than he deserved, and put you in a position to witness it. No one deserved this. Not even the fickle humans. If they were meant to suffer like this...

Maybe this was what you were sent to Earth for.

Visiting the flesh acheron, and by extension, Hell, for as long as you have took not only your power, but the power of the fates as well. If you came here again, it wouldn’t be for nearly as long, and would exhaust a huge chunk of power every time you did so. But as you face the boy in front of you, you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him.

You’d figure it out, you’d make something up, you’d lie; Tell them Lucifer was being an uncooperative dickhead, which isn’t exactly wrong anyway — anything to be able to make your way here again.

You had to.

With a few more whispered promises and broken sobs, you eventually fade away. It wasn’t until you noticed the sandy shore beneath you had been replaced with slowly moving constellations did you allow yourself to look up again, the impatient eyes of the council piercing through you.

You’d already gotten rid of any trace of tears, your mind going a million miles a minute conjuring up a plan to save Nick. You knew you had bigger priorities than one human, a single soul; Earth and her millions of souls were on the brink of annihilation yet all you could think about was one boy.

But something in you, deep in your core screamed that this was important to you, he is important to you.

Maybe it's because you’re soft, maybe it’s because he’s your first lost soul, maybe it's because it’s Fate, but as you waved an intricate web of truth and lies while you built your case with the council -- of how freeing Lucifer from the flesh acheron was of the utmost importance, of how often you’d probably need to be sent there to attempt to do so;

Your heart was nearly pounding through your ribcage at the thought of seeing that boy and his pitiful soul once again.

And as Lucifer, upon his return, ranted and roared and raged something mighty, Nick desperately held on in anticipation of your next arrival.

Author’s Note: Next part is out as well! They’re both shorter chapters so I did a double update as well. They would have been out a lot sooner if tumblr didn’t delete my damn editing progress when I tried to insert a photo — I nearly cried. Creating those secondary headers is WERK but not as much as editing this shit? I should sue. I got mad and stopped for a while bc I’m a petty bitch, so if you see mistakes blame Tumblr for crashing. I will also insert links to chapters later, I don’t feel like it currently 🤡

Please ask to be tagged! I’d appreciate reblogs, comments and asks as well 🥺

Tag list:

@insomniac-nerd-posts-things @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @sophia-of-sass-gard

#caos #nicholas scratch x reader #nick scratch x reader #sabrina #the chilling adventures of sabrina #ambrose x reader #prudence x reader #sabrina spellman #x reader #savior

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hoodoo12 · 3 years

Text

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

NSFW, Beetlejuice/f!reader, mostly just straight up smut but a teensy bit of plot wiggled in.

@beejiesbitch @janitor-boy @thewolfisapartofmysoul @angelicspaceprince @turtlepated

Enjoy! `

You knew you shouldn’t, but it had been one of those days. A day that had been packed full of angry, demanding people, disrespectful people; a day that felt like you were running in sand. You were physically tired, mentally exhausted, and emotionally drained.

You needed a distraction, something completely unrelated to your life, and although you might regret it later, you knew the perfect way to do it.

No candles or soft music. You were in pyjamas and didn’t even put on matching under garments--you’d discarded your bra the second you walked through your front door, and there was no way in hell you were putting that contraption back on!

Pulling a beer from the refrigerator, you cracked it open, took a swig, and muttered,

“Betelguese, Betelguese, Betelguese.”

You didn’t put any inflection or emphasis on his name, but that didn’t matter. Like a rule in a fairy story, three was the magic number; it made no difference how the words were spoken. You’d never asked him exactly who made the rule or what the purpose of it was, and he’d never volunteered the information.

What was important was that it worked.

When the final syllable was out of your mouth, he appeared in front of you, with an audible ‘pop!’

“Hey babe! You rang?” Betelguese exclaimed, arms wide to make a grand entrance, the grin on his face even wider. “You think you could give me--”

You shoved the beer into one his hands and stepped up against him boldly, taking him by surprise as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth, swallowing whatever his next words may have been.

To his credit, Betelguese took the unexpected welcome in stride, thrusting his tongue through your lips even as you could feel his smile didn’t abate. He practically hummed his delight, and you could only imagine it stemmed from the idea that he was so damn desirable you simply couldn’t contain yourself.

He could think what he wanted, so long as he gave up the goods.

When you finally had to disengage for a breath of air--the smug bastard didn’t breathe, so he rarely broke a kiss--his eyes were alight with devilish pleasure.

“Someone’s desperate,” he remarked with only a smidge of sarcasm.

It was never good to let him think he had the upper hand. He could be a conniving brat. So you let him take a swig of the beer you’d unceremoniously shoved into his grip, and then you stole it back from him.

As you raised the bottle to your own mouth, you told him, “Do you mean you? I gave you one kiss and now you’ve got a raging hard on,” as you slipped your free hand between his legs and cupping his erection before taking a drink.

“Oh baby,” he replied, watching your throat work as you swallowed the beer. Just as you tipped the bottle again to take another pull from it, he said, “Let’s get your lips around something else long and hard.”

Despite the corniness of the joke, you laughed, spilling a little of the booze down your chin.

“You have the humor of a twelve year old,” you chided, but not too harshly.

“Yep,” Betelguese agreed easily, swooping forward and grabbing you in a parody of the hug you’d greeted him with.

He took the embrace further, as his nature, grappling you and hoisting you off the ground. Instead of kissing you, he licked the dribbled beer off your face before his mouth latched onto your neck. You shrieked in laughter and struggled weakly against him, demanding without too much insistence to be put down. He did not comply; he carried you out of the kitchen into your living room even as you told him to be careful, the beer was spilling, it was making a mess, come on Betelguese--

He dumped you onto the couch.

“Careful with the ‘B’ word,” he cautioned with a scowl.

You rolled your eyes, and reaching up to take a handful of his shirt, you yanked him down on top of you.

As if your earlier concern was forgotten, you dropped the open beer. The flurry of activity you engaged in--unbuttoning his shirt with such force a few buttons clattered to the ground, working at his belt and fly with such fervor you couldn’t make your fingers move fast enough--left him both startled and aroused.

Betelguese let you fumble your way into his clothing, chuckling and teasing you that he knew how hot he was but it was nice to have the confirmation of it as woman tore off his clothing. With his weight pressing you into the cushions and his refusal to help--because, again, he could be a brat--you managed to throw his shirt awkwardly over his shoulders and shove his trousers to his knees. You hooked a foot into the crotch of them and kicked them as far down as his ankles. Since neither of you had bothered to remove his shoes, you effectively hobbled him. He didn't seem to mind.

Then, because he was mostly nude and you were not, still pinned under him, you growled in frustration, even though it was a problem of your own making.

He laughed at you, which should have made you angry. Before you could voice it, however, he dropped his head and kissed you with the same energy you’d met him with when he appeared. Your front teeth met his, painfully, and his tongue rooted for yours. You gave up stripping and took his head to keep him from ending the kiss too soon.

He’d used the word desperate, and you weren’t ashamed it was true. The kiss waxed and waned as you had to steal sips of air, but it never lost its intensity. You didn’t let him up; you continued it for what could have been an eternity, nipping and sucking and groaning into his mouth.

Betelguese pulled back a bit, his lips still anchored to yours, to look down at you as best he could. You finally released his mouth but continued to kiss his jaw to his neck, leaving a trail of marks that showed up purplish-red on his pale skin.

“You’re wearing clothing,” he announced, like it suddenly occurred to him.

Immediately you twisted to try and at least shimmy out of your pants. He still didn’t move to give you the freedom to finish the job. Instead he frowned like he couldn’t believe he had to do everything himself, held himself up one arm, and snapped the opposite fingers.

Your pyjamas disappeared off you, ending up in a heap on the floor.

“That’s better,” he leered, leering down at you.

“Much,” you agreed, and pulled him back into a kiss.

With no clothing between the two of you, the cold of his body pressed atop yours made you shiver, but it was more in anticipation than the cold. Under him, you rocked your pelvis upward towards him suggestively, hoping that he would take the hint and not pretend he didn’t know what you wanted.

For once, Betelguese didn’t tease or drag it out. As soon as his own body dipped into the perfect position because your movement spread your legs even more to accommodate him, he thrust forward.

He missed the sweet spot.

It still felt good, his cock slipping along your pussy to lay heavily on your clit. It was a smidge too hard, making pleasure that bordered tightly on ache jolt through you, but on another day you’d have let him rock the length of his cock to tantalize you as a precursor to actual sex. It wasn’t what you wanted, though, so you didn’t try to contain the disappointed groan that passed your lips.

He could have taken offense to your disappointment, but luckily your need fed his and he just looked sheepish instead. With a self-deprecating grin, he spit into his hand, reached between you, readjusted to be exactly right this time, and held himself steady as he pushed into you.

Now your groan was gasping and drawn out, and full of pleasure.

Sex with Betelguese was always began as a physical shock. His skin was chilly, and that included his cock. The first few moments after he entered you were like being filled with ice, but luckily your own body temperature warmed him. Sometimes you wondered if he could actually control how warm or cold he was and he simply didn’t make himself warm enough initially just because he liked to hear you gasp and so he could absorb the heat from your body. Although bound by some rules, Betelguese had an autonomy that seemed almost endless.

Deep questions like that were neither here nor there at the moment. You got the beginning of what you wanted, and you wanted even more.

Clutching him, you held him in place, forcing him to continue pressing you into the couch.

“Jesus, baby, I was half joking about the whole ‘desperate’ thing--” he began.

You interrupted him. “Just fuck me!”

Betelguese didn’t need a second invitation.

He fucked you hard, just how you wanted it, just how you needed it tonight. The points of his hips slammed into you with enough force that you may be bruised in the morning. The friction of his cock pushing in and pulling out of your pussy was divine. You tilted your hips as best you could to allow him to go as deeply as possible.

Although naturally a talkative lay, he didn’t waste breath on words this time. Instead, your moans filled the air. Your fingernails dug into his back until he shook them off, then you grasped his sides, urging him faster, faster.

He was warm now. The transition matched the increasing bliss building in your belly. Abbreviated words of encouragement escaped your lips--

“Yes--yes--please--oh god--please--”

--as he continued, and you locked your ankles together over his back to keep him in place. Involuntarily you pushed up into him. That bliss reached critical mass inside you, an explosion of ecstasy that left you seeing stars and narrowed the world to just you, him, and the couch he seemed determined to try to fuck you through.

You would have loved to ride that crest as long as possible, and since you’d opened the floodgates, Betelguese obliged. His hips worked relentlessly thrusting against you, like a machine, but in spite the haze of pleasure that cocooned you, you felt a faint tremble in him.

In cases of fast and furious sex like this, that heralded that he was close to the end too.

You continued to hold him close, cooing in his ear as his head dropped against the side of yours. You could be just as dirtily encouraging as he could--he’d told you that was one reason he liked you--and you whispered to him that you loved his cock, you loved how good it felt as he fucked you, you couldn’t get enough--

With a strangled cry that sounded more human than his typical gravelly voice, Betelguese came deep inside you. Then he truly collapsed, and you hadn’t realized how much weight he had kept off of you until that exact moment.

Still, being crushed by him with his cock still buried in you wasn’t the worst. Cleaning the couch cushions of his slightly luminous, ectoplasmic come was going to be, if you didn’t get to it in a timely manner.

But you couldn’t make yourself care. He’d given you exactly what you needed, no questions asked. As he finally did find the strength to push himself up and off you, you sat and stood up, ignored the wet that trickled down your inner thighs, and went back to the kitchen to grab another beer. Grabbing your top from the floor you pulled it on over your head as you kicked your pyjama bottoms to soak up the beer that had spilled on the floor as you walked passed it.

When you returned, he was sitting up with no regard to the wet spot under him, a cigarette dangling between his lips. He lit it with a flame that seemed to originate from a fingertip, and leaving the cigarette in place, he blew out the fire from the opposite side of his mouth. He’d left his shirt half off his shoulders but had finally untangled and freed himself from the trousers that had been bunched around his ankles. Like you, he was nude from the waist down. He took a pull off the cigarette and exhaled a thin wisp of smoke that curled like a sandworm near his head. He patted the cushion next to him and you rejoined him with a sigh.

You took a swallow of booze, and when he indicated with an upward jerk of his chin he wanted some, you handed it over and plucked the cigarette out of his fingers. Trading vices, he downed half the bottle while you took a drag.

“Bad day?” he asked.

You threw a glance at him. Did he actually care? Was this a new side to him, something that wasn’t self-serving or sarcastic? Was it a trap of some sort?

You decided you didn’t have the energy to work all the possible angles out and accepted the question at face value.

“It’s better now,” you replied, leaning into his shoulder.

At your cozy touch you felt him tense beside you. You ignored his reaction. From the corner of your eye, you saw you’d surprised him with your honest answer. The same internal struggle and questions must have flitted through this head. However, he must have decided the same thing you just did, and in a moment he relaxed too. You sat in companionable silence passing the drink and smoke between each other.

fin.

#writing #fanfiction #beetlejuice #betelgeuse #beetlejuice x reader

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talenlee · 3 years

Text

The Johnlock Conspiracy Conspiracy

First of all this is going to be building off a point first cast into relief for me by Sarah Z’s video on The Johnlock Conspiracy. She is both directly connected with the experience of this space and did the research into the actual history of the people involved, a sort of on-the-spot observer recounting her experiences ethnographically. If you want a longer form deep dive on what The Johnlock Conspiracy is, check out that video. I will be providing a quick summary.

I’m also going to talk about fanagement, which I wrote about last year, which is about the way that fan engagement was seen as being a thing that corporate entities could deliberately engage for commercial ends. Fanagement isn’t necessarily an inherently evil or corrupting thing, but it’s something to know about as something that exists, and knowing it exists can colour your relationship to the media created in response to fanagement.

There’s this idea of ‘The Johnlock conspiracy.’

In the agonisingly mediocre BBC mystery drama Sherlock that ran from who cares to also who cares, starring in the loosest sense of the word Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman (a man ‘renowned’ for this, The Office and the Hobbit trilogy, on a scale of poisonous influence to actual outright evil), as a modern day re-imagining of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson that has some interesting ideas that it absolutely does not use well, mysteries that are not interesting and a relationship tension that was making itself up as it went along. Much ink has been spilled about how this series is not very good, and that’s good, because it’s a very expensively made bad series that banks on the reliable draw of the same fistful of boring privilege.

Part of what made it popular, sort of, was the tension of the relationship between John and Sherlock. See, they were both men, you see, and what if they kissed.

Now, tumblr is, by volume, mostly connections to other parts of tumblr. If you make something popular, it becomes amplified and exploded and brought to the attention of others and curated into lists. Content that gets shared is the very sinew of what Tumblr is, which means that doing things people share around is a strange form of primacy on the site. Making content is powerful, heady, druglike. Commanding curation where you determine what does and does not get shared is even moreso. It is a space for an audience that is engaged deeply with the concept of being engaged, and in this space, fandom happened.

There’s not a lot of Sherlock. There were big gaps between the seasons. When a season came out, it did not explain itself or deliver on its promise at all. It is, as I’ve said, bad. But it was well made and used actors you’d heard of and was treated as being prestigious and so, when the show came out, and because people liked the idea of what it could be, fandom struck on a conspiracy:

What if this terrible show is secretly great?

And I understand the impulse. It’s heart to a lot of fandom. I can’t possibly have spent this time and energy on something I don’t like, it must be that the thing I like is secretly this thing I really like. And so scaffolding comes out to buttress the idea. We’re not taught that fandom is right – we’re taught that fandom is something that justifies itself by being right. If you have a story in your heart about a Dark Fuckprince and his soft bean injured Watson, that story is real and right, and doesn’t need the official endorsement of the BBC to be good.

Without that armour of love, though, instead the fandom turned into this endless oroborous of hostility centered around three people, who seem to just be total dickheads, great job you. This resulted in the blossoming of what was known as ‘the Johnlock Conspiracy,’ where through thousands of pages of well intentioned fumes, these fans huffed themselves into believing that Steven Moffat and Mark Gattis were secretly building up to exactly what they wanted, and they were the smartest people ever for noticing it. The lack of payoff of their beliefs and the active hostility Moffat had to their ideas and positions in person, that was all part of the conspiracy.

Oh, by the way, that idea – conspiracy – is when you have an unfalsifiable conjecture. If you can’t prove it false, no matter what, that’s when you’re dealing with a conspiracy theory.

The dramatic conclusion to all this was the series ended, their conspiracy was wrong, they theorycrafted themselves a few more months of content, and then most people let it drop.

But what if I told you there was a conspiracy?

Because there was. It just wasn’t the conspiracy they thought.

See, a conspiracy is a real thing: it’s a secret plan to do something harmful. And the BBC, since they published the work that Matt Hill described in Torchwoods Trans-Transmedia: Media Tie-Ins and Brand Fanagement, worked with the parameters of their experiment aggressively.

The idea, as I outlined in my article about Fanagement was that making the program so it could engage fans directly, and give fans feelings of creative ownership over the work would drive viewership and the kinds of engagement they liked (like, paying for things). Fanagement sought to make media ‘gifable’ – low saturation backgrounds with cuts of under a second so you could break a scene apart easily and conveniently. It wanted to make fan media easy to make, and to minimise hard declarative statements.

The lessons learned from this paper included things like ship teasing as a deliberate task – and I do mean teasing, with the idea that you had to do it in deniable and ambiguous ways. Making things definite wouldn’t get you as much fan engagement as keeping things ambiguous, because fans would make an inference based on what you show them, talk about it, then other fans would watch it again to make sure they could argue with you about it.

A mystery show like Sherlock was perfect for this kind of treatment. Treating the series as if there was some really deep, thoughtful question at the heart of it meant that there was always a reason to keep from ‘revealing’ the secret of the story, to string the audience along, like they’d believe or tolerate it, if it was all in service of a clever explanation. You get it, right? After all, we gave you all the clues.

The toxic fandom of Sherlock did not form as much as it was fostered.

A lesson from this experience, a lesson easily escaping notice, is that it’s not that ‘fandoms are all the same.’ They really aren’t. They are wildly varying in the terms of their problems and those problems root causes. What they tend to have in common is dynamics, but those dynamics are expressed in a lot of different ways. It’s not that ‘fandoms’ naturally become toxic and awful. There are fandoms that are generally, quite nice, and they tend to be that way because of the values of the central movers and shakers and the conscious willingness of people who perceive themselves as part of the fandom as taking care of it. The dynamic is the same – you have common nexuses of community that people interact with – and the kind of behaviour that’s acceptable and reasonable is filtered through them. If the idea of asking people to modify their behaviour or respect people’s boundaries is seen as unreasonable, then you can get a toxic space.

Also, as I talk about ‘toxic fandoms,’ understand toxicity is relative. There is, after all, a very real, very unironic Hitler Fandom, and they are probably one of the worst fandoms out there. Being a mean lawyer on the internet is bad, and I’ve no doubt the fandom curators known now as the Powerpuff Girls absolutely wrecked some teenagers’ lives – like, there are definitely people with, I am not joking or being hyperbolic, some PTSD triggers about (say) Tumblr or whatnot, based on the kind of social force these people were leveraging.

And then remember that holding that lever at the high end, right at the top with the most power over it was a company that made TV shows that was trying to make sure you watched their shows.

Also: The tools for doing this are available to all the companies that read the paper.

My advice? Exhort and uplift queer creators. Be positive about it, not negative. Don’t make your time about attacking other people’s dark fuckprince. Bring what you like to life, and bring that life into the light. Share and love each other, rather than find reasons to be mad at one another for how you’re all playing with toys a corporation wants you to treat with respect and only play properly. And as always, the standard you walk past is the standard you accept – so make sure your fandom circles aren’t putting up with some Powerpuff Girls.

Originally posted on my Blog.

#Sherlock #Johnlock #Fanagement #Conspiracy

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baezdylan · 3 years

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LITTLE WOMEN FANFICTION

CHAPTER 2, PART 1: INVISIBLE STRING

Horizons and Sunsets

"Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs"

- invisible string, Taylor Swift

Concord, Massachusetts, 1868

Rays of sunshine playing on her skin. Soft grass under her fingers. Little specks of dirt scattered across her face. Leaves tangled up in her hair. It's not a common happening to be able to see yourself in such a way. A way that makes it seem like you are not you, but somebody else wearing somebody else's clothes, guarding somebody else's heart, owning somebody else's thoughts. Like you are only an observer, a background noise in your own life. These descriptions are usually used in unpleasant connotations, usually as metaphors, usually as another way of saying you feel transparent, forgotten and small. But in Jo's case, the phenomenon is not even a tiny bit metaphorical. Maybe it's the impact of the books. Maybe it's her imagination. Maybe it's just her. Whatever it is, Jo has always been able to see her life as a theatre piece, herself an audience member, her past self, no matter how far back she might travel to reach a certain memory, a performer. And Jo craves those moments of remembrance. She craves the feeling of transparency. She craves to exist less.

Everything she remembers, she remembers in flashes. Her memories do not understand concepts such as "chronology" or "order". Her brain resembles an unsolved puzzle. Every piece of information she has makes sense. But when to be put together with another aspect of her being, it does not fit. Nothing about her ever seems to fit. And now, she doesn't fit within herself.

No, Jo March is not a puzzle. Puzzle, no matter how difficult and complex, can be put together.

She's a living breathing contradiction.

What else to describe the utter ridiculousness of her mind? She is not happy and she is not sad. One second she is completely content with her life, the other, she is not. She wants to receive love, love and love, but she is afraid to offer it.

When Josephine March loves someone, she does not tell them. She does show, but never tells. She never uses the famous simple phrase. Never not once.

Her best friend burns for the people he loves. Jo burns for them in secret.

And here, as she is seeing herself splattered in sunlight, Jo March is preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

***

Paris, France, 1868

Theodore (yes, he is "Theodore" now) is not exactly sure where he is or how did he get there. His vision is blurry and his body feels heavier than usual. What is fascinating about his situation is the fact that consuming certain "substances", (and substances being of alcoholic nature), were supposed to prevail him from feeling like this. From feeling the way he's been feeling his entire life. Like everything around him was frozen and he was the only one moving. He was just too fast, too warm, too different. Enormous in emotion, reckless in thought. All of this often led to conclusions too horrific to comprehend, so he tried to avoid thinking.

The thought of having too many emotions might be terrifying. But the thought of having too much love for everything and everyone but himself was rather paralyzing. It was ridiculous to expect anybody to feel with as much passion as he did. It was ridiculous to demand such a thing from people. Why would anyone put all of their energy into someone else when there were so many things to be done in the world? But those other things rarely sparked an interest in him. Adventures, boarding schools, trips and experiences seemed irrelevant and hollow unless they were intended to be shared. It's funny how he always craved the one thing he never had. And when he finally got a glance of the love he so desperately wanted, he lost it because of his stupid absurd annoying emotions.

When Theodore Laurence loves someone he does not tell them. He screams it until his lungs are on fire.

His best friend loves with her whole entire heart. He loves with his whole entire being.

And now, vision blurry and body heavy, Theodore Laurence finds himself preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

***

Concord, Massachusetts, 1862

Step one: chasing ghosts

Sand beneath her bare feet. Water. Silent whispers of the sea. Birds. Colors. Nothing. Everything. Oh, to be crafted in such a way to believe you shall always be sixteen and silly and reckless and real. That is how Jo feels right now. Real. Right here, observing, enjoying, doing nothing but existing. And the sea! So mystical and wide, appearing endless in its presence, it looks like something in possession of a dream rather than this time and place. And the best part of this? Her family. They all resemble a painting in their natural messiness. Amy with her hair half wet, positioned in a way she believes to be ladylike, smiling at the horizon, sketchbook in hand. Meg, holding her hat so that it doesn't leave her in its desperate wish to follow the wind, shoes untied, eyes glistening from laughter she experienced seconds before. Beth, oh sweet Beth, kneeling by the water, touching the shining surface, mouth moving as though she is singing to the sea itself. Teddy is by her side, like he always is, sitting with his eyes closed, head held high up to the sky. He would probably refer to his current position as a way to "suck out all the marrow out of life", which always sounded a bit inappropriate coming from his mouth, but Jo loved the symbolism of the phrase, so she decided to put her friend's foolishness to the side.

"Isn't it simply ethereal, dearest Teddy?"

"Yes, I did indeed think my face had a particular glow to it this morning, your kind remark is very well appreciated, Miss March" came a teasing response shortly followed by a light smack to the arm (because Jo, being an experienced bookworm, always had a book weapon down her sleeve).

"Oh Teddy, you're such a boy sometimes. I find it quite disappointing really." said Jo being perfectly aware of the effect the comment might cause. Teddy shot her a look of a supposedly hurt individual, put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly, as though he was a character in a Shakespearean tragedy. Jo rolled her eyes at the glamorous gesture, but pretty quickly, her features were changed with a thoughtful expression. She turned her head to Teddy timelines after, only to be greeted with a no longer playful, but a reassuring smile. He knew her too well.

"You know, it doesn't make it any less beautiful. The fact that it's all going to end one day, I mean. Quite the opposite actually."

She does not answer that. She gets up from the ground and extends her hand to him.

"If it's going to end, we might as well suck all of the existing marrow out of it."

"Oh, what a wonderful choice of words, dearest Jo!" he exclaims theatrically while gladly accepting her hand

"Oh, what a wonderful life, dearest Teddy."

And with that, they run to the sea, their lungs almost too full, smiles almost too big. Spirits almost too free.

Childhood is a thing of dreams.

Concord, Massachusetts, 1863

Step two: rearranging thoughts

Trousers under skirts. It's scandalous. Scandalous and inappropriate. At least that's what society will label it as. And society loves labels. But Laurie finds a solace of sorts in his friend's choice of clothes. He isn't sure how to explain it (he is not as good with words as Jo is), but it's comforting to see someone be so unapologetically themselves, whoever that person might be. He tells her this one day because he's Laurie and he isn't familiar with the concept of "silencing your emotions".

"Teddy, don't flatter, I told you I do not enjoy nor support such doings. You might as well go practice your gentlemanly manners on Amy, I'm sure she will accept your words of so called admiration with much more enthusiasm than yours truly." says Jo, her voice a tiny bit too loud, her thoughts meeting the outside world in grave speed. Laurie often finds himself wondering how one speaks with so much passion and rush, it's like Jo's sentences are running instead of flowing. She shares her mind without looking at him, her hands busy with rearranging the dining table previously covered with Amy's unfinished drawings and Beth's beloved dolls.

"I meant what I said, Jo. But since you believe I'm incapable of offering sincerity, I shall escort myself out."

He gets up from the place he was sitting at and rushes out of the March house, leaving his waistcoat behind him. Jo knows better than to follow him right away. She will bring him the forgotten object later, once he's ready to start unravelling burdens.

***

Night.

Light.

These two nouns aren't supposed to get along very well, yet here we are. Jo finds herself awake in the middle of the night, which circumstance she is no stranger to, but this time it is not her restless mind that steals her from the arms of dreamland. It's light. Jo gets up, careful not to make a noise, and looks out the window to further investigate the strange occurring. And the sight her eyes are met with is a sight so undoubtedly Teddy-like that she isn't sure if she will be able to forgive herself for not coming up with such a conclusion sooner. The house of her neighbour, who happens to be her dearest friend, is shining with what she presumes is light of about two dozen candles. The scene would've been inspiring, if not captivating, especially for a person of her making, but Jo knows Teddy and this cannot mean anything pleasant. Therefore, she decides to pay her fellow pirate a visit, armed with a forgotten piece of clothing as a faithful enough excuse.

Proud of herself for avoiding all the obstacles successfully (and the obstacles being sleeping family members who have yet to be introduced to the pleasures such as "sleepless nights" or "windows"), Jo runs to the construction once known as a house, now as a gothic castle and knocks. Her efforts are answered with a voice of not a person, but a peculiarly human like ghost.

"Who is it?"

"Do you really think I will dare share information of an importance so big, oh so grand, without seeing your face, kind sir?" says not Jo, but a righteous, noble knight, his devotion as admirable as amusing.

Laurie opens the door only to be met with a grinning Jo.

"I believe you have forgotten this, my friend."

exclaims an unlike lady, kneels down and offers him his waistcoat in a way so grandiose, some might think she actually was a knight in shining armor, sharing sunlight, providing hope.

"Don't be a goose Jo" came a gentlemanly response followed by an annoyed sound and indifferent expression. Laurie turns around, but leaves the door wide open. Jo, understanding the message quite well, follows him inside to a candle lit room. Laurie approaches the piano and sits down as though he is about to start playing the instrument, but he doesn't confirm the logical assumption. Instead, he closes his eyes and remains like that for what feels like eternity, looking like a human statue. It would've been comical if it were anybody else, but Jo was familiar with Teddy's passion for extravagance. His behaviour does not spark laughter, but concern.

"Teddy, I think you should start explaining whatever it is you need to explain. Keeping it in won't do anybody any good despite you believing it will. I promise, you won't be a burden."

Laurie shifts in his position and exhales loudly, his eyes still closed. When he starts to speak, his voice is not his. It's distant and decorated with occasional trembles which he is desperately trying to avoid.

"When I told you today how I find solace in the way you carry yourself and how you wear trousers and don't care about what people think of you, I wasn't trying to mess around or anything. Sometimes... Sometimes I feel like I am not me... Like I'm not a good match for myself and I..." he opens his eyes at that, not sure if he wants to receive a response to any of the things he has just said.

"I am deeply sorry Jo, this doesn't make any sense, you can go, I don't know what came of me."

"Oh Teddy, but it does make sense! It makes so, so much sense." Jo doesn't say that like she wants to comfort him. She really seems to mean it. Their gazes meet at the exact same time, their eyes glossy (which observation they will both dismiss in immense respect to one another), their faces now beautified with soft smiles.

"You do realize you are wearing a night gown right?"

"I am not the one randomly lighting up candles, impersonating ghosts now, am I?"

"It's called dramatic effect, Jo! Dramatic effect! And keep the waistcoat, I never really liked it anyways."

***

After that day, Jo and Laurie's closets were left grieving for lost members of their separate societies. Blouses, neckties and waistcoats were introduced to the idea of travel and adventure. And even though the closets were left in grief, their owners were more than satisfied with the not so sudden change.

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imissjoongsmullet · 4 years

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My Prince (1)

Pairing: Minghao x reader

Genre: fluff/(angst)

Summary: Life is not exactly easy being the royal gardeners’ daughter but at least it’s simple. When you’re suddenly called upon to serve as the prince’s personal servant, things get a little more than complicated, especially considering the secret history you and the prince share.

Part 2

Part 3

Warnings: general angstiness, a bit of a slow burn, very romantic, very soft, the fact that this will most likely become a long series cause I have no chill

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: this is a present for my sweet sweet baby @silverstonemanor you deserve the world, I hope you like it! She gave me the idea for this story a while ago. I would have posted stuff earlier but my extra self couldn’t stop and ran way too far with this whole idea. This was supposed to be a drabble and well, now it’ll probably become the longest thing I’ve ever written that isn’t a novel so yeah ^^” oopsie~

►

The sun was just peeking over the distant treetops when you entered the wide castle grounds with your parents, tool bag slung over your back. You didn’t mind waking up this early; you enjoyed watching the various shades of orange and pink roll over the sky like waves, until nothing was left but clear blue. Besides, in a few hours, the air would turn far too hot and humid for you to focus.

The royal gardens were massive. They’d seemed infinite as a child and even now, despite your position as gardener, you found yourself lost in them from time to time. You followed your parents to the place you’d left off the evening before: a long, narrow stretch of grass, flanked by vibrant tiger lilies on both sides. At the far end was a small, ornate pagoda, around which a thin body of water lay. It was a lily pond of your father’s own making.

“Start at the front,” your mother’s stern voice called from behind, “we need it perfect by noon.”

You did as you were told, getting on your knees in the damp grass, facing the flowers. They needed pruning, as well as weeding. There would be some sort of royal meeting held right here today and; naturally, the place should be spotless. You dug your fingers into the moist soil and pulled at the weeds haphazardly, eyes drifting to the sky more often than necessary. It was tedious work, being part of the royal gardeners but you’d never had much of a choice in the matter. Your parents had done it and the same was expected of you. It’s not like you minded it all that much; you just wondered sometimes whether there was something more exciting you could be doing with your life than fussing over the tiniest details of a garden so vast, the emperor would probably never even see half of it.

The distant neighing of a horse called your attention. Unthinking, you got up and jumped onto the raised platform of the pagoda, so you could see over the bushes of the garden. From the castle’s main entrance came about a dozen men on horses. They trod down the path that lead into an enormous forest. At the front of the procession was the emperor of Namin himself, his most trusted servant by his side. Your eyes went immediately to the horse behind them though; for that’s where the prince sat. The gold detailing on his robe glinted in the warm morning light as he silently followed his father.

“Hey!” your mother barked at you, “these weeds won’t disappear by themselves you know.”

You pulled your eyes away from the procession and hopped off the pagoda with a dull thump and a sigh. You wished you could join the people on their horses. You didn’t even care where they were headed; you just wanted to get out. You imagined adventures you’d have with the prince sometimes; it was a bit of a guilty pleasure and if anyone ever found out, you’d probably be banished from the grounds.

But the prince and you had been close once. You’d been only children but even then it had been scandalous. Servants weren’t allowed to interact with royals but, as the daughter of the palace gardeners you’d spent a fair amount of time on grounds, learning your parents’ craft. That’s how you’d first met him.

He’d been reading by himself under an orange tree when you’d found him, a young boy of seven. He’d seemed weary of you at first but in a matter of hours, the two of you would’ve seemed like best friends to strangers. You still remembered the way he’d smiled at you that first day when you said goodbye; as if he himself was shocked by how much fun he’d just had.

From then on, you’d been secret playmates. He’d find you in the rose garden, watching your parents treat the plants and steal you away for hours, playing hide and seek in the endless maze of greenery, until the sun went down and when you’d return, your parents were worried about where you’d been.

He hadn’t seemed much like a prince back then. You’d just known him as Minghao, your best friend. He’d been loud and wild and full of life, chasing you between trees and under bushes, not afraid to get completely covered in dirt. One time, you’d been teasing each other until finally, he’d pushed you into one of your father’s most prided fountains. You’d yanked him down with you, ruining the apparently-brand-new robes he was supposed to wear to a formal dinner with the ruler of a neighboring land called Yientan that evening. You hadn’t seen him in the following days and you’d felt extremely guilty but a week or so later, he’d jumped out from behind a tree and pulled you into another afternoon of carefree playing.

You were eight years old when you finally got caught. To make matters worse, it had been the empress herself who’d found you, hidden behind a banquet table at one of the royal summer festivals, laughing a bit too loud. You’d never forget the look in her eyes — hard as stone at her own son — as well as Minghao’s — positively terrified. She’d had the guards escort him back to his chambers assuring him there’d be punishment later. She would have banished you right then and there in front of everyone if it hadn’t been for your parents’ begging. They promised to have you start training twelve hours a day with them, to force all your focus on gardening so you wouldn’t have the energy to think about anything else.

You supposed you should be grateful. You would never have survived on your own outside the grounds should you have been banished.

After that, you barely ever saw Minghao and even when he was out in the gardens, you kept your distance. There were times when your eyes crossed and you’d share a look and a smile that reminded you of the way things once were. But even that didn’t last. Soon enough, Minghao grew up and you stopped seeing him as Minghao, the name replaced with ‘prince’, as others called him. It seemed to fit him more. By his fourteenth birthday, there wasn’t much left of the loud, wild, full-of-life boy you’d known. His back was straighter, his shoulders squared and his kind smile vanished. On the rare occasion your eyes did meet, his were cold like his mother’s and you just had to learn to live with that.

Because you knew your place now.

Yet, as you worked your way around the stretch of tiger lilies, your mind kept flitting to the prince. You couldn’t help it. You knew it was silly but, somehow, you still hoped you could return to how things were before.

You were a sweaty mess once the sun arrived high in the sky. Your hands hurt and your stomach was growling but your mother had told you not to take a break before the flowerbeds were in perfect condition. After that you’d still have to clean the pond, all before the clock struck three, when the meeting would take place. You were getting impatient and grouchy and when someone called your name you replied with a bit more attitude than you were allowed to.

“What now?” you groaned, turning around to see, not your parents, but a tall, thin woman in pristine, white and gold clothing. You nearly fell over into the flowers.

The woman didn’t seem fazed. “Come with me,” she ordered in a monotone voice.

You looked around for your parents and found them just as perplexed as you were. Hesitantly, you stood and followed the stranger through the garden. You knew by her clothes she must work at the castle but, as you had no idea of what went on on the inside, you couldn’t tell exactly who she was or what she wanted from you. You worried suddenly they’d somehow found out about your secret prince fantasies, which was a completely irrational thought but horrifying nonetheless.

You were taken through the main entrance, with its massive wooden doors and colorful flags — a gold dragon against a vivid blue backdrop. You'd been fantasizing about what lay behind them since before you could remember. More blue and gold flags? Statues of the royal family? Elaborate paintings or murals?

It was more than you could have dreamed of. The room was entirely bare, drawing the focus on the only the two things that mattered. The floor was a wood, so shiny you could see your face reflected in them, the gentle creak in them like a birdsong. The walls were painted a sky blue, decorated with gold, spindly tree branches. Their shine reflected onto the wood, lighting up the place beautifully.

You had no time to admire any of it. The tall woman’s stride was hasty and you could barely keep up. Tailing her through a small sliding door, you came upon a narrow hallway. You passed others in servant’s clothing: light colored, clean, silk robes. They billowed behind them gracefully as they shuffled past. It made you realize how much you stood out in your mud-stained tunic and trousers.

You ventured deeper into the castle, taking turns through sliding door after sliding door and you started wondering whether you’d ever find your way back outside, when suddenly, the stern woman turned around to face you. You were in a small room with a low table as its center piece. The woman motioned for you to sit and so you did, feeling your heartbeat quicken. What kind of punishment was in store for you here?

The woman took the seat opposite you at the little table, expression unwavering. “I’ve called you here because your services are required in the castle,” she said, sounding put off by the idea.

You could only stare at her in confusion. Why on earth would you be needed at the castle? Your parents did the odd job inside every now and again, mostly flower pieces for special events, but you’d never even been allowed in. Was this some kind of joke?

“Our royal prince’s personal servant has fallen ill,” she went on as if she couldn’t care less, “we need a temporary replacement.”

It took you a few moments to put two and two together.

“You mean me?” you let out a little louder than you’d meant to.

The woman raised her brows. “Believe me I would have chosen otherwise but as it is, you’re the only adequate servant on castle grounds available at the moment.”

Adequate, you thought perplexedly. That wasn’t really a term you’d ever use to describe yourself, let alone a term some crabby older woman would use to describe you.

“The position of any royal member’s personal servant has a set of very specific requirements. Age, gender, birth time,… I don’t expect you to know about it,” she sighed, quite literally looking down on you. “Skills can be taught,” she went on, rising and beckoning you to follow, “but unfortunately the alignment of the planets are beyond our control.”

She opened up a panel behind her, revealing a deep closet space filled to the brim with colorful fabrics. She pulled out a soft lilac robe, not unlike the ones you’d seen the other castle servants wear, and held it up to you, looking you up and down.

“This will do,” she said with a concerning lack of enthusiasm. She pulled out a bunch more similar robes and made a neat pile. “Come,” she ordered and left with the clothes.

All you could do was follow and try to process the ridiculous things you’d just been told. Perhaps you were just dreaming, you thought. Yeah, that had to be it.

You arrived in another bare room, this one large and rectangular. There were a couple of other servant girls, folding robes on the floor. They all rose upon seeing the older woman and bowed in silence. Then they noticed you and their eyes narrowed. You felt their stares stab at your already racing heart.

“Before we can begin your training you need to wash, child,” the woman said, laying down your new clothes, “I’ll be back in half an hour. Be ready," and with that, she left you standing there, completely in shock.

After awkwardly looking around the room for far too long to be socially acceptable, you plucked up the courage to ask for help. The young girls exchanged looks before reluctantly bringing you to the baths.

If you hadn't been so anxious it would've been the best bath you'd ever had but for all the luxurious oils and soaps to scrub yourself clean with, your brain was too preoccupied with everything that had just happened.

“I don’t understand,” you muttered when you were met with the older woman again, “I’m just a gardener.” You were shuffling after her in the narrow hallways, trying to wrap your head around things.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she answered simply, “it’s not befitting a royal servant. Besides, this is merely a temporary position. You’ll be back out with your tools in no time.”

Her name, you’d learned, was Tou Ma, or at least that what you were to call her. She was head keeper to the royal family, in charge of all female servants in the castle. Her face was long, with eyes like slits and cheekbones sharp as glass. You couldn’t tell how old she was from the heavy layers of powder she wore but supposed she must be older than your mother.

She spent the rest of the day attempting to cram an overload of information into your head. She taught you to bow ‘the proper way’, whatever that meant; apparently you’d been doing it wrong your entire life. She explained all the intricacies of etiquette, washing, folding, serving, dusting, pruning and a bunch of other things you’d probably forget by the next day. It was all so overwhelming that when it was finally over, the sun was setting and you were about ready to pass out.

“Now,” Tou Ma said, somehow still as fierce as she was at the beginning of the day, “the emperor and his son returned from their hunting trip approximately one hour ago. I suggest you don’t keep him waiting much longer.”

The words took the earth right out from under your feet.

“I have to see him?” you stammered, “now?”

Tou Ma looked unimpressed. “I’ve told you how he likes his tea,” she said, “don’t mess it up.”

You were one and all nerves as you approached the prince’s chambers. You nearly got lost on the way, the hundreds of hallways all blurring together after such a long day, but the entrance to his chamber was not easily missed. It was a heavy, wooden sliding door, it’s surface craved out, depicting a scene from a past war. It was imposing to say the least, with soldiers on horseback and a massive dragon in the sky, spewing fire. It did not manage to still your racing heart.

Taking a deep breath, you slid open the door.

There he was, the prince, sat in a blood red, upholstered chair at his desk, writing. He looked regal, you admitted, in his clean, silk robes and perfect hair; too beautiful to touch. He looked up at the sound of the door. His brown eyes fell on you and his lips parted in silence.

“Um,” you started awkwardly, which was already not the ‘proper’ way of serving tea, “I’ve brought you some tea.”

That’s when you noticed his brows furrow ever so slightly. Having forgotten everything Tou Ma had taught you just before, you walked over to the nearest surface — a narrow table against a wall — and set down the tray you’d been holding. You felt his eyes on you the entire time as you tried to remember how to prepare the beverage properly but when you were finally done after what seemed like forever, you found him hunched over his writing again.

“Okay,” you said softly, “it’s ready.”

He set down his pen and turned to you with a look that was impossible to read. The silence between you seemed to last forever and you felt your face go red hot. You noticed for the first time how tired he looked. He was seventeen, one year older than you, but the darkness under his eyes would suggest otherwise.

Part of you wanted to go nearer to him. You took a hesitant step forward but at once, you saw his eyes turn colder than you’d never seen them.

“You can leave,” he said suddenly, casting his eyes back down to his writing.

“Yes,” you stuttered, taking the emptied tray and hugging it to yourself, “of course.”

You stumbled backwards until you met the door, made an awkward bow and left the prince with a sinking feeling in your gut. You’d watched him change over the years from a distance, sure; but having him dismiss you so coolly when there was no one even around to see? Well, it hurt. Maybe part of you had hoped he’d act differently when it was just the two of you. Maybe you’d hoped he’d tell you all these years of iciness had been pretend for his parents. But clearly not.

In one day, your entire life had turned upside down and at its end, you were positive things hadn’t changed for the better.

Part 2

#minghao #xu minghao #the8 #seventeen #minghao fluff #the8 fluff #minghao scenarios #the8 scenarios #minghao imagines #the8 imagines #prince minghao #kpop fluff #fluff #series #minghao series

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

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Skyward

Ao3

Foreword

Ochako’s expression was listless as she stared out of the small round window. Her cheek pressed against the cold glass; the skin had long since gone fuzzy and numb, but she had not the energy to change her position. She just stared miserably through her only connection to the outside world. That thick glass pane separated her from the indigo sky, the glittering stars, and the wispy gray clouds— a beautiful night, by all reckoning. She’d once imagined what it would be like, viewing the endless blue expanse from within a dirigible. Of course, those fantasies never involved her being a prisoner.

Ochako’s eyes slowly closed, then opened in a lethargic blink. She continued to gaze out the small window, watching the clouds slowly drift by as the dirigible sailed onward like a steamship on the sea. Maybe if she thought hard enough, she could pretend that she was a princess on a journey to a strange foreign land. She closed her eyes, focusing her breaths, and tried to envision a much better scenario than her current one. Try as she might, however, the fear and unease gnawed at her insides, like a caged beast trying its best to escape and unleash full-blown terror within her.

She opened her eyes again, and then gasped, jerking away from the window. A round, speedy air vessel had burst through one of the clouds, scattering the wisps like pieces of cotton. It surged past the window, speeding alongside the large passenger dirigible, and disappeared around its back end. She gasped, sitting up as hope fluttered in her chest. Had someone learned of her kidnapping and come to rescue her?

Not a few minutes later did her recent captor burst in, scowling and shooting a pistol down the hallway. The sharp pop-pop-pops blended with frightened screams, angry shouts, and more gunfire. The startling sight made Ochako jump out of her chair and huddle against the bed, hands curled up in front of her chest as if they could shield her.

“Damn sky pirates.” Tomura slammed the door shut and jammed a chair underneath the knob.

Ochako’s heart plummeted. Pirates? So she was not going to be rescued after all.

Tomura’s black suit and dark glasses seemed to soak up all the light in the room, making him loom ominously at the front of the room as he turned to her. She flinched, knowing his eyes were dark and callous beyond the barrier of his tinted shades.

“Ochako, stay out of the way and you won’t get hurt,” he ordered as he stalked across the room to hunch down in a chair and begin tapping away at a Morse code communicator. Ochako watched him nervously, unease coiling in her belly as he feverishly called for reinforcements.

She edged along the bed, racking her brain for some way to take advantage of the chaos and slip free. The door was jammed shut, however, and pirates lurked beyond. What avenue of escape could she even find? As she continued to shuffle away from him, her toe hit something hollow and glass-sounding. Ochako glanced down to see an empty wine bottle lying on the floor; Tomura and his associate had drunk it with dinner earlier that evening. She peered cautiously at Tomura, who was occupied with the code generator. Slowly, she stooped down to pick up the bottle. Quietly, she crept up behind him and hefted it above her head. Then, she squeezed her eyes shut and slammed it down as hard as she could.

Tomura released a startled gurgling sound as the glass exploded against the crown of his head. The green shards fell to the carpet with small tinkling sounds, scattering droplets of wine across its beige surface. Tomura slumped against the table, knocking the communicator onto the floor as his arm jerked. Ochako dropped the broken edge of the bottle and looked around wildly, frantically searching for a means of escape.

Just then, the door to the room lurched violently. The chair lodged underneath the doorknob quivered and groaned, straining against the assault of pounding fists.

“Open up!” called a male voice. “I know you’re in there! Just give us the crystal and we won’t hurt you!”

Ochako clutched the pendant around her neck, the precious pink stone with her family crest engraved in gold on its concave surface.

“Ah!” she exclaimed in fright, scrambling away from the door to her only reprieve— the window. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the latch for far too many seconds, making her terror spike in sharp bursts. Come on, come on! she screamed to herself. Finally, she managed to flip the latch and heft up the window. Cold air immediately rushed in, ruffling her brown hair and making Tomura’s papers flutter around the room. She heard a loud snap and whipped around to see the legs of the chair buckling and splintering. Before she could consider how dangerous her attempted escape would be, she squeezed through the window legs-first, finding a foothold on the very slim ledge lining the side of the metal craft.

Just as she had slipped all the way out, the chair crumpled and the door slammed open. A boy her age with pine-green hair stormed in, his emerald eyes glinting with greed and delight. Behind him she could see several more masculine bodies crowding the hall.

“Ehehe, looks like she got you good, Tomura!” the boy cackled as he scampered up to the unconscious gray-haired man, nudging his limp form with a toe before looking to the open window. Ochako was frantically edging her way along the outside of the dirigible.

“Oi, Miss, what are you doing out there? That’s dangerous, you know!” the pirate trilled, running up to the window and leaning as far out as he could to grope at her. Ochako screamed as his fingers snatched at her flapping white dress.

“Eicchan! Get over here; I can’t reach her!” the green-haired young man snapped impatiently. A large redheaded form crammed its way between the pirate and the edge of the window. Ochako recoiled despite his cheesy grin, shuffling along the side of the airship with renewed vigor.

“Hey, get back here!” the redhead cried, stretching as far as he could to paw at her dress. Ochako screamed again as he grabbed a fistful of it, yanking it and drawing it tight around her thighs. She clutched the side of the ship as he tugged and pulled, actually having the strength to scoot her closer.

“No! Let me go!” she cried, slapping at his hand. Her nails caught on the skin, scoring three parallel red lines across his knuckles. The man recoiled with a shout, allowing Ochako to scurry to the next window. Tears beaded on her lashes while she pulled frantically at it, but the window had jammed halfway open. “Please, please!” She was beginning to realize just how terrifying it was being trapped on the outside of the airship. The sky was a chasm below her, whipping with winds that yanked at her dress with the clear desire to wrench her off and send her plummeting into the depths.

Just as she’d managed to yank down the window, the door to the room inside the airship barged open, startling the couple holding each other. A young man with blond hair and a black lightning strike-shaped streak in his bangs ran in, grinning wildly as he brandished his pistol.

“Gotcha!” he declared, rushing up to the window to swipe at her. Ochako reflexively jerked back; in doing so, her flats slipped against the sleek metal siding. She screamed as her feet gave out and she fell, her hands uselessly slapping against the dirigible until they met the open air. She could hear the three pirates yelling in dismay, specifically at the loss of her crystal necklace.

Earthbound she was, falling through the air with the wind rushing through her ears; faster and faster she plummeted until all the breath was stolen from her lungs and she slipped into unconsciousness…

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

#kacchako #bakuraka #bakugo x uraraka #uraraka x bakugo #katwsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

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foxtailapp · 3 years

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All About Mental Health in BDSM Dating

This post is originally from Pleasure Uncensored by Foxtail. It can be found here.

BDSM dating can have an effect on a person's mental health. To understand, you must first understand what BDSM is.

What is BDSM Dating?

BDSM dating refers to dating in a subculture based on various rules and restrictions related to the interactions between people to meet sexual needs. BDSM stands for bondage, sadism, masochism, domination, and submission.

These concepts comprise three relationship pairs: BD - bondage and discipline, DS - Dominant- submissive, and SM - sadomasochism.

In general terms, BDs are time-limited sessions with a variety of practices and strict delineation of roles. Fixation, sensory deprivation, role-playing - all this refers to the BD. But, as a rule, this type of relationship with role-playing games and educational programs doesn't go beyond the bedroom.

DS assumes a prolonged transfer of power over all or (more often) some areas of life. Example: The big boss of the house is subordinate to his wife in everything, including the need to wear thongs with flowers and go to the gym. Submission and domination can be both in the bedroom and extended a lifetime.

SM is a painful stimulus to get pleasure. The sadist likes to torture, and the masochist enjoys to suffer.

The main thing to understand is the fundamental principles of BDSM; without rules, it can turn from an exciting game into ordinary violence.

A basic rule of BDSM is SSC which means Safe, Sane, and Consensual.

How do you interpret SSC in BDSM?

Safe = SECURITY.

All parties involved will make every effort to preserve their physical and mental health.

Sometimes it is complicated to avoid injuries: ropes pinch nerves, and blood vessels, games with breathing are fraught with suffocation, illiterate flogging leads to skin damage and internal organs. Thus, the main thing that a sane sadist starts with is the study of anatomy and safety.

Sane = MIND.

Life is not limited to games, and the participants in the process are adequate. This means you must have responsibility for what is happening, even if you are in a lower role. For example, the principle of safety in SM is impracticable without a sober assessment of one's own capabilities, regular monitoring of health status, and informing a partner about all potential problems.

Consensual = VOLUNTARY

Everything that happens, even the most painful and disgusting, happens according to an active and unequivocally expressed desire. This is one of the reasons why session scripts and practices are discussed in detail in advance. Otherwise, there can always be reticence, and game violence will turn into reality.

Who likes BDSM?

When psychologists began to study natural BDSM dating communities, a lot of exciting things turned out. People who practice BDSM are psychologically healthier than those around them. Typically they are more extroverted, more open to new experiences, less neurotic, and less prone to a range of mental disorders, for example, from depression to anxiety, paranoia, and (surprise!) pathological sadism.

According to various estimates, 20% of the world's population is inclined to BDSM. These people use bondage, masks, and blindfolds. Unlike paraphilias like fetishism, BDSM attracts both women and men equally. Participation in BDSM, as a rule, does not cover the experience of childhood trauma and violence.

BDSM practices do not interfere, and in some cases, even help establish close and trusting relationships between partners.

Most people view BDSM as reckless, dangerous, and unhealthy, a phenomenon whose representatives are allegedly mentally ill people. However, this is actually not the case: BDSM is just a sexual preference that can benefit health.

BDSM Dating and Mental Health

Recent research on BDSM and its effects on the body has shown excellent results. Scientists find no evidence of harm caused by the psychosocial subculture of BDSM, but they are finding that it does have health benefits.

Funny games of dominance and submission

How do BDSM practices affect the psyche?

In addition, researchers note that such practices can have a stimulating effect on self-awareness. For example, they connect the practice and mindfulness meditation, known to have beneficial effects on mental and physical health and reduce anxiety.

Apparently, pain during BDSM practices helps focus attention on the sensations we are experiencing and immerses us in a meditative state and thereby helps to relieve tension.

Studies of people practicing light BDSM practices did not reveal they have serious psychological problems. Moreover, in comparison with the control group, many respondents noted a higher level of subjective satisfaction with life. True, we are talking primarily about those who choose the dominant role or switch (they switch between dominant and submissive).

Those in the submissive (i.e., subordinate) position reported less life satisfaction compared to dominant people. This is another reason to always pay attention to the psychological state of the participants in the process - and if the practices are not enjoyable, they should definitely be abandoned.

Games of submission and domination require a certain level of intimacy. The willingness to trust a partner and allow himher to hurt himselfherself a little (with the ability to stop at the first signal), as expected, increases the level of trust in a stable pair.

A slight fear develops into more excitement and interest in a partner.

How can BDSM help?

Fans of complex games claim that some perversions help eliminate anxiety, momentary worries, an endless stream of thoughts from which the head is spinning.

Playing BDSM games involves the person in specific spaces that affect the person's state of consciousness.

What is sometimes called the "topspace" is a beautiful place characterized by focused attention, optimal performance, and loss of self-awareness. Try it yourself, see how much you will be focused on your partner and what is happening at the peak of arousal.

According to lovers of kinky sex, the whole room seems to disappear during their pleasures, leaving only the bed. Nevertheless, it is a poignant pleasure.

There is also an alternate state that most people know about as "subspace." It is a light sense of submission. This condition is characterized by a decrease in pain, tension, and a return to complete peace and serenity.

If you have had problems with your nervous system, BDSM dating can be a pleasant way to relieve symptoms.

Another life hack: if a person suffers from heightened emotionality, spanking can be used for therapeutic purposes. How does it work? Impact pain creates the conditions for emotional release, for example, tears. This can be an effective but temporary solution.

Should you try BDSM? It Depends.

It would be best if you were more honest with yourself. Leave the imposed moral principles, and try for a moment to imagine yourself in the role of master or subordinate. Undoubtedly, many have experienced a slight excitement from just the thought of this, which is not surprising.

A person does not have sex for procreation but for pleasure, so why not get the most of it? Role-playing games, toys from a sex shop, submission, and domination - all this variety in bed will help you get new sensations previously unknown. So when should you try BDSM?

Long-term marriage in which people no longer feel the need to make love. This phenomenon is widespread everywhere, and it's just that people have become boring to each other.

Lack of sex leads to moral and physical dissatisfaction, quarrels begin, and just everyday life becomes monotonous. To get a taste of life again, try BDSM.

Dissatisfaction with regular sex. Many people complain that they are not satisfied with the sex. So, it's time not just to change the position but sexual intercourse as a whole.

As we have already found out, BDSM allows you to get more aroused and get more pleasure from sex than an ordinary act.

Stress and depression will go away if you use BDSM. Partners will be able to throw out negative energy during dominance and submission. By the way, the role doesn't matter - dominants and submissives alike get rid of negativity, and gain pleasure.

So, what does BDSM mean?

This is a standard sexual practice used by many couples (polls have confirmed). So, nearly all people cannot have mental disorders (right?), which means that it is simply stupid to classify BDSM as a perversion. You have to ignore public opinion and give your desires to the fullest.

I recommend that you try this practice for a variety of relationships and mental relaxation. First, however, it is worth remembering a vital rule, BDSM is based on the voluntary consent of all parties involved.

To prepare for such an experience, resolve to participate and not be influenced by a partner.

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nicolinocolino · 4 years

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Marti x Nico fic rec list

Inspired by: 1) the ask I got requesting nicotino fic recs 2) the lack of fic rec posts in this fandom and 3) my own procrastination

my personal favorites are marked with a ★

explicit fics are marked (E)

and incomplete chaptered fics are marked with ✐

canon-compliant/divergent & post-canon & slice of life

Martinese by ginnyred ★ summary: Nico has always been fairly good at languages.

Londra A/R by ginnyred ★ summary: i miss you already. Or, Marti leaves on a four-day school trip to London.

tre giorni by akmongs ★ summary: "I think this summer is going to be good." Snippets of Marti and Nico's life over three days.

maybe... by Princess_sized summary: Hi! I didn’t like the idea of Marti being so upset after the fundraiser and not seeing any kind of resolution for him so... here ya go! Ele’s POV because it’s her season, of course.

Matched by ginnyred summary: When Marti told him the five-a-side football tournament began in two weeks, Nico smiled gently and said: “That's great. Is Chinese okay for dinner?” With hindsight, he might have underestimated the whole thing a little bit.

tell me what you need by crucios (E) summary: There's something a little off-kilter tonight that Marti can't pinpoint. Nico's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and there's a strained and anxious sort of energy thrumming through him. Like it's just under the surface of his skin but hasn't quite broken through.

quicken the heart by crucios summary: The words come spilling out a bit like a cup clumsily overflowing. Marti can feel his cheeks heat up a little. It's not even that he's embarrassed. Not really. It's Nico. He can tell Nico anything. It's just... a strange thing to hear himself say. Before Nico he had never properly imagined that he would ever be this intimate with someone—intimate enough to be able to have conversations like this.

clean breaks by ladyballs_and_manboobs summary: Mamma Rametta angst or Nicotino angst? Why not both!

let me face hurricanes by ladyballs_and_manboobs summary: Martino's courage is tested.

he ain't heavy by ladyballs_and_manboobs summary: Chapter 1: Gio reflects on Marti's confession (Episode 6) Chapter 2: Gio becomes the Love Magician (Episode 7) Chapter 3: Gio gets to know Marti's boyfriend better (Episode 8) Chapter 4: Gio takes care of his boys after the fight (S3)

Old Flames by claudinedelyon summary: Through sheer bad luck, Martino never receives Nico's post-its or the antidote. The next time they see each other, ten years have passed and they are back in very familiar territory.

don't know where you start, and where i begin by akmongs (E) summary: Marti thinks another reason why they have anticipated this trip so much is this. Having a hotel room to themselves for five nights. No one else's schedule dictating how much time they have. No one interrupting them. No biting his hand to keep quiet when Nico slips a hand in his boxers while his mom is sleeping next door. Just the two of them, alone in a room with a double bed and what feels like endless hours to spend wrapped in each other.

Forget The World Outside by givemesumaurgravy summary: “Stay with me,” Niccolò says, and it’s not so much a question as a request, one that Martino could never deny him. Martino would stay forever if Niccolò let him. Or, what happens after the pool kiss scene.

Buttons by Princess_sized summary: “I know it sounds crazy, but I never meant to hurt you.” Or, Marti starts wearing his shirts buttoned all the way up sometime between the end of their 3rd year and the start of 4th. This is why.

pda (private displays of affection) by lamourestout summary: s3 ep2 missing scene (except not really since it's not marti's season anymore) but after nico whispered to marti and they left while ele and eva were talking aka making out in edoardo incanti's guest bedroom because they're very in love with each other

Unforgivable by ginnyred summary: There is a moment, it lasts maybe a couple of seconds, in which Marti wonders if Nico has been listening to him at all. But then Nico looks at him. Really, really looks at him and Marti knows he knows. “What is it that you're ashamed of?” Nico asks, kind but resolute. He kisses his forehead and holds Marti's face in his hands. “Betraying your friend's trust? Or the feelings you had for him?” Marti tells Gio, but first he tells Nico.

alternate universe:

Nico the fitness trainer AU by ladyballs_and_manboobs ★ ✐ summary: Martino has to take pilates classes with the girls after losing a bet to Elia. It doesn't turn out as bad as he feared.

For art's sake by ginnyred ★ summary: Being an art critic, Marti thought he knew what posh artists were like. Not bothering to show up at one's own art opening has got to be a new low, though.

focal point by GiuliaMed ★ summary: Finding new friends is Niccolò's priority after changing schools, but somewhere along the line, one of the four boys he meets becomes more important. Snapshots of Nico slowly falling in love.

Mezzo Forte by silver_etoile summary: Martino knows falling for a straight guy is bad news, but his heart just doesn't seem to listen.

but nothing ever stops you leaving by akmongs (E) summary: Nico moves to Milan after university. Marti doesn't cope as well as he thought he would. Over a month since they last saw each other, he decides to book a train and surprise him.

Threading the Needle by claudinedelyon summary: Anybody who has so much as met Martino could probably tell fashion is not his biggest passion in life. But he has rent and bills to pay so he will happily take the position offered by Brava, a small but growing clothing company. The fact that the job turns out not as crappy as he feared and that the people working there welcome him with open arms, those are all perks that just make his life easier. And the presence of one dark-haired designer who seems to draw great amusement from his lack of knowledge or interest in the company's line of business, well, it's something else entirely.

Do you Feel a Comma in your Heart? by claudinedelyon summary: Martino is a professional, somewhat experienced, translator. He's worked with all kinds of proofers before, and it's mostly gone well. And then, he's introduced to the new proofer who is working with him on his latest project and has got green eyes, an infectious smile and opinions on the proper use of commas.

Io non ci credo, alle giraffe by Akira14 ✐ summary: Once upon a time, there was a boy who couldn’t sleep. This is the story of his quest for a cure, for the song of a wounded soul and the tears of a mythical creature. And what if he finds love, along the way? Love... Everybody seems so obsessed with that, but Martino had seen with his own eyes how dangerous, how painful, it was to fall for someone and he would rather avoid it. Will he?

Bewitched by ginnyred summary: Marti looks down at himself. Long, lean pianist fingers that are not his at all. He's swimming in his blue t-shirt, suddenly a lot slimmer. He puts his hands in his hair and it's weird because the feeling is familiar, but the angle is wrong. He touches his face, the long line of his nose, his jaw and prominent cheekbones. “What the fuck?” he whispers, looking up again, and his own voice startles him with how deep it is. “I'm you!”

———

PLEASE ADD TO THIS WITH ITALIAN FICS I BEG OF Y’ALL

#skam italia #nicotino #martino x niccolò #NO i will NOT put a read more on this #you have to scroll through all of it thats the point #if you find something new/nice on here please leave the author a comment or at least a kudos #these are just my personal favorites #AND PLEASEEEEE if you have the time and energy add to this list with italian fics

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ticklish-touch · 4 years

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I’m With You in the Dark

Last year, I made a poll seeing who would be interested in reading a story about my tickle monster Rags meeting my favorite character in Deltarune, Jevil. Even though I got a very positive response overall, I... chickened out. :’D I've always felt very self-conscious about writing fanfics, especially ones involving my OCs with canon characters. I grew up with other weeb friends who thought fanfic in general was very cringey and taboo. But at the end of the day, as long as people aren't writing about shipping real-life people or kink shit with minors, they have the freedom to write what they want if it helps them express themselves. Ever since last year, Jevil has become a very important character to me. There are hundreds of wonderful creative interpretations of him and his possible backstory; and, as someone who has depersonalization spells, existential thoughts about reality & the universe, enjoys making other people laugh even at my own expense, and a chaotic inner voice that constantly tells me "AREN'T YOU TIRED OF BEING NICE, DON'T YOU JUST WANNA GO APESHIT??" this little gremlin has become a comfort character; one that I also highly enjoy cosplaying. And, frankly, what better year to post a story about nihilism than 2020? 👍 So, this is just a "what-if" scenario, if someone else besides Gaster with some degree of omniscience was able to show the poor jester that there's more to life than just waiting for the Void to take over. And if anyone takes anything away from this, I just want it to be the hope that things will get better. You are allowed to be hopeful, and happy, and make positive connections with people even if you've had harmful experiences with people over past mistakes from either side. We're in this together; you aren't always going to be alone, your suffering won't be in vain. This, too, shall pass. So please, stay determined. Happy Halloween, everyone!! 🎃 🦇 👻 🤡 Story below the cut!

The mischievous Nightmare felt a peculiar pull at his mind as he lurked through the foggy darkness in search of another playmate: A chaotic soul resonating with nearly as much feral playfulness and craving for laughter as his own. But there was something...Off. This mind, this essence, was splintered and broken, re-mended into something different... A shadow of its former self. Joy and mischief and enthusiasm for the world, replaced by existential dread and loneliness...

The silent cry for help brought Ragaeli to a reality he'd never been in: One of the many infinite parallel dimensions to Earth that existed in the endless void of spacetime. At a brief glance, he could see there was a race called Darkners. They seemed to be the joy of childlike imagination brought to life; living, breathing checker and chess pieces, puzzle pieces, stuffed toys and squeaky mallets and lego blocks.

And, within a card castle not unlike the story of Alice in Wonderland, deep within a huge cell locked by powerful magic, a rotund little jester with a black and purple wardrobe was bouncing about, creating myriads of dazzling diamonds, spades, hearts and clovers. He appeared to be an imp with a J-shaped tail, a round noseless face, pointy ears, deep black pits for eyes and serrated, lemon-yellow teeth stretched into a smile as he laughed gleefully to himself.

The Nightmare split open a doorway of crackling energy, leaping through, landing on the indigo striped ground with a THUD. The floor was very plush and unsteady, like the inflated floor of a bouncy castle. "Weellll now, it sure seems like a party in here~ But what kind of party only has one guest, hmm?"

Immediately, the small jester jumped, his head launching out on a spring coil like a Jack-in-the-box. "AIYEEE-!! What, what?! Who are you? Did...Did you escape too??" He glided over to the tall figure, eyeing him over. At first, his lips twitched and seemed as if they were going to form into a frown. But instead he responded with a forced grin. "Uee-hee hee, I see, I see... It seems they've finally replaced little old me~!" He bounced up on his tail to flick playfully at Ragaeli's chest bells, spiraling around him to tug at his flaps, hair and spandex. "Hmmm, not bad~ And you can't go wrong with being a stripey lad; I guess the Kings have some taste after all! But where is your hat?? A jester with no hat is like a witch without their cat!" He glided around behind Ragaeli and his eyes widened. "A hand on your tail?? Now that's just excessive!!" "I must say your rhyme scheme is really quite impressive~" Ragaeli giggled, his head turned 180 degrees to look down at the jester. Jevil couldn't help but giggle too. "Uee hee hee, why thank you, thank you~!" He hovered upside-down in front of the larger monster, summoning a deck of cards, shuffling them up. "The tales must be true, that each suit has two. A black and a red...I always assumed the other must just be dead!!" He snickered, making the cards disappear up his sleeve, then turned back upright, folding his arms, his purple tail lashing about behind him like an agitated cat, his tone twinged with jealousy. "Well since they've decided that red suits their court more, you'd better not be a bore! To replace me is to replace the wittiest of all the players in this castle full of nay-sayers!"

"Hehehe, now, don't get your tail in a twist, I'm no replacement," Ragaeli playfully flicked one of Jevil's bells. "Name's Ragaeli, but you can call me Rags, Ragdoll, Ragtime, Rag-Tag, just don't call me boring, heheh~ I'm not even from this world, you see. Would you believe me when I say there are other worlds out there? Other dimensions?" Jevil giggled at all the nicknames, then his face lit up, his annoyance quickly shifting to curiosity. "Oh yes, yes, I know it to be true!! He chuckled. "Your world, it is a game too? Or is it more "real" than what we can perceive?" Ragaeli raised an eyebrow. "A game, hmm? I suppose you can say that," He smirked. "My world is, in a sense, "Not real" as well. Not to the people of Earth anyways. It's thanks to their thoughts and emotions, their hopeful desires in the depths of their darkest thoughts, that I exist at all. And because of that," His grin turned devilish and he rapped his fingers together in a comically villainous fashion. "I can appear to any of them that I want. I can play all kinds of games with them~ I have no limits to what I can do in my realm, and Earth itself is my playground, a game that will never end~"

The jester listened with fascination, then cackled again, seeming elated as he bounced around in midair. "Oh I'm SO happy!! Someone else finally sees!! There is another who's been set free!!" Then his giddy tone turned to a snarl. "THEY didn't believe me!! THEY were all blind, blind!!" Magic energy crackled around him. "I ONLY wanted to HELP them!! I only wanted them to be privy to the danger, danger they would face if they didn't try to free themselves of this pointless rat race!!" Ragaeli's brow furrowed. "Who's them? Who put you in here? A jolly little hellion like you shouldn't be locked away like this, 'specially if you think your castle's in danger." Jevil quickly shook his head, puffing his chest out indignantly. "It is not I that has been locked away! They chose their own prison, they dug their own graves! The court wouldn't listen, they didn't want to play, and now for their bullheadedness THEY'RE the ones having to pay!!"

The Nightmare latched onto the images flashing through Jevil's mind, learning bits and pieces about the royal court that ruled the dark castle. It definitely appeared that things were in disarray, and the court jester's loneliness bubbled into a well of resentment... The continued rush of memories manifested into the image of a strange entity that came to the jester before his imprisonment: A ghostly creature, cloaked in inky blackness, with large round holes in his skeletal hands and a twisted grin frozen on his skull-like head, a single white pupil glowing out from the cracked eyesockets with a sickly light. Even the Nightmare, who had seen every hellish iteration of fear and hatred, knew that this...thing, was bad news. He existed, yet was nonexistant. He was fractured across all of time and space, yet remained trapped unmoving inside the Void. He was filled with hopelessness, bitterness, egoism, an unyielding ambition to drag anything and everything down into the same all-consuming darkness. An unfortunate victim of his own hubris, now a sociopath with cold disregard for individual worth except the desire to dissect everything and everyone he could latch onto. And it happened that Jevil, who craved mischief and adventure and purpose in his seemingly small role in the kingdom, was the latest test subject. Ragaeli's hair stood up on end and a low, near demonic growl rumbled in his throat. "And what, exactly, did this thing show you?" The growl made Jevil gasp, stopping him in his tracks, looking up at the large entity with trepidation. "H-He showed me everything, everything!! He showed me the beginning, the end of all things, he showed me the truth of this world and all worlds in the cosmos, that nothing is as it seems, nothing means anything, but because anything can be nothing, nothing can be everything--" "Alright, enough, I'm stopping you right there, Lovecraft," In a swift movement, he tugged the rim of Jevil's hat over his face. "YEEE- H-HEY!!" The frazzled jester fixed his hat, puffing his cheeks out at Ragaeli, his tail whipping about even more wildly. "Whoever this Wing-dinged handy-man is sure isn't very handy if all he can do is fill your head with nihilistic nonsense," Ragaeli stuck out his tongue. "Sounds like someone who had a rotten time of it is now trying to ruin everyone else's fun." "No, no, not at all!!" Jevil leapt on top of Ragaeli's head and perched like a cat. "Because of him, I can have more fun than I ever thought possible!! You'll see, you'll see!! They're bringing back the key!!" He giggled madly. "Three visitors, all questing in vain to bring an end to a game that doesn't matter, and once I am back inside their world of lies I will spread my truth everywhere and everyone will thank me!!" He cackled. "But first I should thank you for keeping me company~" He leapt off and glided in front of the Nightmare. From the center of his dark eyes, yellow irises began to glow brightly. "It's been so long since someone has lent an ear, so I'll show you my favorite game~" In a flash, he launched a glowing diamond, sharp as a sword, at the speed of a flying bullet into Ragaeli's stomach.

But the diamond disappeared on contact. Instead of yelping in pain, Ragaeli shrieked and doubled over as the energy shot a ticklish burst through him. "GYEEEE-HEEHEE!!" Jevil looked baffled. "...What, what?? Laughter?" He tilted his head, summoning a spinning barrage of clubs that shot at Ragaeli's legs, chest and sides like machine gun ammunition. And again, the Nightmare was bombarded with a barrage of ticklish electricity, causing him to crumple on the plush floor with cackling laughter. "AIYEEE-HAHAHAHA!!" After the sensation wore off, he continued to let out giddy laughter as he saw Jevil's incredulous expression. "WHOOO-WEE, now that was a good one!!" Jevil couldn't help but snort back his own laughter at the Nightmare's comical reactions, but he seemed even more puzzled. "Is someone ticklish, ticklish? That isn't how I'm trying to play, but it makes things interesting, needless to say~" He giggled a bit. "But then...How am I supposed to play my game if you've got no numbers to claim??" Ragaeli shook his head, jumping up into the air to recline as if laying back on a sofa. "You silly little imp, do you really think that's the only way to play with others? Taking this "HP" until they're gone for good? What would you do then when there's no-one left to have fun with?" He gave a pout. Jevil shook his head quickly. "No no, they're not really gone!! Weren't you listening, listening?? It's all a game!! They can come back!! Losing is just a minor setback~!"

The Nightmare raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?" "Because the Stranger showed me!! He can mess with the code, he can change--" "How do YOU know that?" Ragaeli barked. "Forget about him, can YOU bring them back??" Jevil shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not, but if they lose then that's just how it goes~ Such is the way of this game we all play!" The Nightmare rolled his eyes. "So... you wanna play by the game's rules, huh? How boring."

The jester's malicious snickering immediately stopped, and he stiffened up. Ragaeli narrowed his gaze, prying at the jester's mind a bit more. "What is it you've said? You can do anything? So why not shake it up and take this game into your own hands? If you're really free, then PROVE it!"

For once, the manic jester took pause.

"Think about what it is YOU want in this game we all call life!"

Jevil lifted a gloved finger, unable to answer at first. Then his bright yellow irises faded again. "What I want...?" He lowered his head. "What I want..." A quiet giggle bubbled up from inside him. "I just want them to be free, free with me..." He hovered higher, seeming to vibrate with an intense magical aura, and raised his arms. The room began to spin around the central pole, as if it were revolving around the world's axis. "To break their cage and create a NEW stage, where everyone can play, play to their heart's content!! Free from this kingdom of rules and lies!!" He snarled. "I want them to PAY for making me play in my freedom all alone, every night and every day!!" He bellowed. Carnival music began to emanate from all around them, starting quiet then gaining in tempo. "I want them to say, "To HELL with rules, I will break these chains and embrace the chaos, CHAOS!!" He laughed maniacally, and from every curve of the rounded ceiling, more of his symbols appeared; Hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs, all aimed at Ragaeli, launching toward him like speeding bullets. The Nightmare answered with his own giddy laugh. "Ohhh, how interesting! Well then, let's play for a while and I might just help you make your wish come true~!" He nonchalantly bounded away from the trajectory of the magic, dodging, swooping, teleporting and even dancing and pirouetting away. Occasionally they would hit, and once again he would shriek in surprise and burst into laughter. "GYAAAH-HAHAHAHA!!" Jevil giggled, no longer bothered that his attacks weren't causing any 'HP' damage. "I wonder; How long will it take before you finally break~?" The Nightmare smirked dangerously. "I could ask you the same thing!" His hair suddenly jumped to life, tendrils leaping forward and bombarding the jester's chubby belly, sending electric pulses of ticklishness through him.

"UEEEE-HEE-HEEEE!!" Jevil shrieked with laughter and flailed for a moment before poofing himself to the other side of the room. A bright purple blush filled his cheeks and he clutched his belly, gawking at Ragaeli. "N...NO FAIR, NO FAIR!! IT WASN'T YOUR TURN YET!!" Ragaeli giggled. "You really think a tickle monster is gonna play fair? Now what's the fun in that~?" Jevil huffed and his pout shifted to a malicious grin. "Uee hee hee; Fine, fine, I also won't play fair!! Let's see you laugh about THIS!" With a flash, he summoned a large ornate striped sickle, teleporting close and taking a swift swing at Ragaeli, catching him in the middle of the striped pattern on his leotard. The Nightmare's torso came clean off his legs, not with any blood or guts but with a cartoonish POP. "WHOA!! Caught me off guard with that one, took my top clean off ya did!!" His tone went cockney, and he grabbed his legs and re-attached them as if he'd been de-pantsed.

Jevil balked, then doubled over backwards with laughter. "HYEE-HEEHEE HAHAHAH Oh my stahahars, you're a fun one, you are!!" His scythe disappeared with a flash, a new wave of glee bubbling up in him. "You really are like me!! Your body cannot be killed!! That means you can stay here and play as long as we want!! I'm so THRILLED!!" He laughed with jubilation and raised his arms, and from the walls emerged a bizarre set of carousel horses, with the bodies of rubber ducks, all of which began to circle rapidly around the room. "Go ahead, hop on~! But better watch out, these horsies have a mean bite~"

The Nightmare snickered and dove into a cartwheel, throwing himself onto the back of one of the figures, which tried to toss him off like a bucking bronco. "Piece of cake, I've wrangled a few horsies in my d-AAGH!!" He was swiftly knocked off by a flying duck ramming him at full force, sending him careening into the spinning walls of the room. He bounced off of the squishy surface and lay crumpled in a heap, cracking up with hyena-like hysterics. Jevil, too, giggled hysterically at his opponent's prat-fall. It felt so grand to finally have someone to play with again!!

And so, their antics continued. Jevil came at Ragaeli with everything he had, and the Nightmare almost effortlessly parried it away with his meaty hands or flexible limbs. As Jevil revealed more and more tricks up his sleeve, from his ability to shapeshift into his own scythe, to a downright unfair barrage of clover-shaped bullets, Ragaeli revealed that his tail could multiply into three, which crackled with red sparks; They lunged forward and managed to ensnare the manic jester, slithering against his round belly and backs of his knees, even slipping one of his shoes off to entwine their prongs between his clawed toes. "AIYEEE-HEEHEEEE UEE-HEEHEE NOOOHOHOHOOO-HEEHEE!!" The ticklish shock to his system surprised the jester enough that his head launched out on its spring coil, before retreating back for him to grab the ends of his hat and hide his flushed face and goofy smile.

The Nightmare snickered fiendishly at his reactions. "What's wrong~? Surely the court-appointed master of laughter can handle a little tickling?" The playful taunting just flabbergasted the thrashing imp all the more. Not because he hated it; but because he, the clever jester with an unholy amount of magic energy had never been so easily bested by something that wasn't a physical fight... And on some level, it was thrilling. It felt so good to laugh with such passion; Real, true laughter, instead of a hollow imitation of happiness. Being unable to focus on anything but their game, on the consequences of each other's "attacks", took his mind off the dreadful, existential thoughts that plagued him, and made him think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to his and this world's existence after all...

But in the meantime, it was his turn, and he was ready for revenge. He poofed himself out of the nightmare's tendrils and re-appeared underneath him, turning his scythe into a rubber mallet to send Ragaeli flying up near the ceiling. He smiled wickedly, summoning a barrage of attacks that started to morph into vaguely hand and feather-like shapes. With a clap of his hands, they rocketed up to the Nightmare, burying into his belly, ribs and armpits, slithering down the wide collar of his leotard, trapping his ankles into cuffs so that they could saw between his toes and whirl against his soles like fuzzy sawblades. The onslaught caused the monster to howl and screech with hysteria, thrashing and swatting at the symbols in vain. "GYEEEE-HEHEHEHEHEH WHY Y-YOHOHOHOUUU-HAHAHAHA~!!" Jevil giggled devilishly. "Uee-heeheee, what's wrong, what's wrong~? You're the Tickle Monster, are you not? Or were you lying all along? Can't handle being at the wrong end of your own fiendish plot~?" Ragaeli snarled in his laughter, attempting to swat at the jester with his tails. "GRAAHH-HAHAHAH SH-SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUP YOU L-LIHIHITTLE-!!" And yet, despite his protests at the unbearable attack, the Nightmare's laughter, too, resonated with excitement and elation. It echoed through the vast cell, emanating with such unbridled joy and wild abandon that it stirred something inside of Jevil. Something...Warm, and oddly reassuring. And finally, from the depths of the jester's scrambled mind, memories started to return to him...

He once knew laughter as well, and more than that, making others laugh. The four Kings, laughing at his antics in the court; young Rudinns and Jigsawrys and a baby Clover, all laughing gleefully at his dazzling displays of card symbols, dancing ribbons and fireworks. The dancers in the halls laughing as the court jester pulled prank after prank on the uptight dolt Rouxls Kaard. The Spade King, telling him how eager he was for his son to be born, so that Jevil could teach him how to spread joy through the kingdom. And Seam, his dear friend, letting out a rare gem of laughter whenever he said a silly joke or snuck up on the wooly cat and tickled his sides...

Before long, Jevil's magic was no longer set to kill mode; a fact that wouldn't have affected the reality-bending Nightmare made of laughter either way, but others caught in the crossfire would no longer be in danger of a "game over". His will began to shift, and now his projectiles were imbued with the overwhelming urge to make their target crumble into a heap of elated laughter. Perfect. Ragaeli grinned gleefully, snapping his fingers and poofing himself out of the hold of the magic symbols, standing to face Jevil, folding his arms behind his head. "Well now, seems like something's getting through to that polyvinyl noggin of yours--" That brief moment was all Jevil needed to re-appear behind him, lunging to rapidly scribble his fingers and prod his tail along Ragaeli's belly, snickering to himself. "You so easily let your guard down!! I thought I was the clown!!" "GYAA-HAHAHAHA!! TH-THAT WAS ON PURPOHOHOSE!!" Ragaeli slithered his pronged tail up to scribble against Jevil's 'neck' and pointy ears, sending him flying back on his spring-coil with a yowl.

Jevil wasn't sure how long their game went on. Minutes, hours, days? Time never meant much of anything in his personal freedom; But now, he never wanted it to end. If those three adventurers did ever come back with the key, this would be quite the sight to walk in on... Before long, though, the jester's 'attacks' were weakening, and his large tongue hung out with panting breaths; it became harder for him to levitate, or to tap out from the tickle monster's ruthless attacks; Ragaeli could sense his growing fatigue and eventually stopped, letting Jevil collapse to the bouncy floor.

"H-Hee-hehehe...That was fun, fun!! But enough is enough, you tired me up!" He giggled, but his grin turned to a pout. "But I don't want to sleep yet, I still want to play with everyone, everyone..." "Ohh, I think that can be arranged~" Ragaeli's hand sparked and crackled with magic, making Jevil instinctively squeak and flinch. But he shook his head. "Hehe, don't be worried~ This will give your energy back." But he closed his fist and extinguished the magic. "But hear me out first. If you play to take away everyone's HP, they won't want to play with you. They'll just put you down here again." Jevil snorted and folded his arms. "Well at least I wouldn't be caged in their prison again, again..." Ragaeli could still sense negative thoughts plaguing his mind.

Not real. Meaningless. Trapped. Just a game. Not wanted, not needed. Afraid of me. They'll leave me again, again. Seam will leave me again.

At the very least, these thoughts weren't as loud as before, and were being dulled by the hope that perhaps he could be welcomed back by everyone... Ragaeli narrowed his gaze and snuck his hair tendrils over to prod along his round belly and sides again. "UEEE-HEEEHEEE!!" He rolled over to the other side, hiding his flushed face again. "Heheh, come on now, no need to hide that face every time I get a laugh outta you~" He managed to tug the jester's hat off, revealing short, dark curly hair and a small pair of horns. Jevil gasped, his eyes going wide and he reached over frantically trying to grab his hat back. "HEYY!! Just because you forgot yours doesn't mean mine's up for grabs!!" Ragaeli chuckled. "Relax, you'll get it back, if you listen to me first. There's no use letting those thoughts get in the way of your fun, now is there? Even if you live your life 'confined' with the others, at least you'd still have playmates, right? You still have the chance to make amends and show your friends you're not going to let your story end. ...See, now I've been hangin' around you too long. You're turning me into a natural poet~" The sulky jester couldn't help but snicker. "Even if I did, even if they want to be my friend, I can never see this world the same way again, again..." He trembled. "The vision, the prophecy... The skies will darken, the world will crack, the calamity will sweep away all in it's path...No matter how many broken bonds we try to mend; Whether we play or flee, everything will end!!" He choked back a wail, hiding his face in his palms, his pointy ears drooping back.

Ragaeli rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, scratching his head thoughtfully for a moment. "Look; Of course things aren't gonna be the same. Of course things end someday. That's the point of LIVING!" The Nightmare barked and jumped up, causing another loud THUD as he stooped over on his haunches like an agitated mountain lion. "You change and you grow and you LIVE, despite how tiny or messed up you think your existence is. You CHALLENGE anything or anyone who tries to tell you that you can't find your way outta that dark tunnel. Fake? Real? Who CARES?? You're HERE! Your life is only meaningless if YOU choose to live it without meaning!!" Jevil peeked out from under his hands as the deity ranted. He then scoffed, taking his tail and fiddling with it as he avoided Ragaeli's eye contact. "That's easy enough for you to say. Your existence, your world, isn't made to be a game for OTHERS to play."

Ragaeli calmed down a little, patting his hair sympathetically and tweaking one of his horns. "Listen, Jev-In-The-Box. You're right about one thing. You can't change the circumstances that brought you into being. And sometimes, that really sucks." He frowned. "It sucks for those little mortals who have such little control over the society that keeps 'em prisoner. And even for someone like me...I can't change the fact that I come from a world that wouldn't exist without mortals. Any Nightmare can disappear in the blink of an eye if they aren't remembered by enough people." "Really..??" Ragaeli nodded. "That's why some of 'em try so hard to be remembered, even if it means playing with humans like cats torturing mice before they eat 'em. And I can't make them value life. But I also can't let them freely roam the world that imagined us up, or reality as we know it would fall apart. I can't even stay in other timelines or realities too long or I risk fading away for good." Jevil listened curiously, a hint of a concerned frown crossing his face. The deity shrugged. "So I just make the best of it, y'know? I have fun showing other people that their world isn't as small and hopeless as they think." The thoughtful expression left the entity's face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a devilish grin. "So YOU had better not let me catch you moping about in those gloomy thoughts of yours again," he poked Jevil's plush belly, making the jester squeal and bat his hand away. The Nightmare snickered. "And if I see you trying to end other people's game instead of finding ways to make laughter and excitement a part of your reality... Then I WILL be back, and I'll show you what it really means to be ticklish~" He narrowed his gaze and cracked his knuckles loudly, his body emanating with an aura of electric energy, his hair tendrils raising into the air like cobras poised to strike, wriggling their fingers and forming into bristles.

Jevil shrieked and quickly scrambled back. "YEEEP-!! ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALREADY, I GET IT I GET IT!!" The jester first pouted at being told what to do. But something about the strange monster's words...Felt to be true.

Ragaeli chuckled, his hair calming back down. "Of course, that doesn't mean there's no fun to be had in a bit of harmless chase," he flashed a devious grin. "You can make them pay, without making them go away, so that way you can all play again and again~ The eventual catch can be the best pay-off of all~" The implication of the tickle monster's words started to sink in. A Grinch-like smile started to spread across the imp's face as terrible schemes came to his mind. He could play a game of 'Surrender' with anyone, anytime, and they wouldn't have to lose their HP over it. It could be one big game of hide-and-tickle, or tickle tag, or a test of endurance, or another way for the King to interrogate outsiders about Lightners... Sensing that his thoughts had changed their tune, Nightmare gave him back his hat...And transferred a surplus of magic energy fueled by laughter, adrenaline and mischief to replenish his strength.

Jevil gasped as if surfacing for a breath of fresh air, then giggled and sprung to his feet. "Fine, you've won me over, I hope you're happy! But I think we'll have to wait until the Lightners return with that key. Once they do, I'll wreak havoc in that boring little prison of theirs and this Joker will be the one to have the last laugh~!" He giggled fiendishly and rubbed his hands together, bouncing impatiently in place.

Ragaeli smirked. "Hehe, no need to wait for a key. Prisoners break themselves out all the time, so why not just break in~?" He hopped over to the door, grasped his large hand around the bars, his hand emanating with crackling magic again... And the lock popped open with a click. Jevil went slack-jawed. "Wowee!! You really are strong! I can't even best Seam's magic enchantments at full strength!" he then cleared his throat. "That isn't to say I couldn't have broken in all along. I just didn't want to is all," he shrugged and stuck his tongue out. "So now it's time to say...SO LONG!!" He cackled maniacally and shot like a bullet out of the door.

When he flung himself from inside the cell, he saw the three travellers from earlier, now gawking up at him incredulously. "W-What the-?!" Susie and Ralsei's eyes went wide. Jevil instantly pounced them, rapidly bombarding them with scribbling fingers, rapid pokes and his tail slithering between their limbs. Shrieks of startled laughter answered him, even from the quiet, stoic one. They were too preoccupied with trying to flail away to notice the jester snatch the key out from under their noses. As soon as he had it, he stopped and hovered above them. Susie panted for a minute. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!!" she snarled, brandishing her axe. "H-How did you get out?!" Ralsei questioned. "I thought you needed the key??" Jevil merely answered with a wild grin, focusing his power in his hands until the key sparkled and crackled with his magic...And shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. Without another word, he rocketed up the winding stone steps, laughing incomprehensibly. "WH...WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Susie shouted. "I don't...think that was supposed to happen..." Ralsei scratched his head through his hat. Kris just shrugged, and Susie grumbled. "We went through all that shit just to get the key and he didn't even NEED it!! I'm getting real damn sick of this stupid castle!!" She pounded the handle of her ax into the ground, huffing loudly. Ralsei frowned. "Well, don't worry about him. I think it's time we go find Lancer, yeah?" At this, Susie calmed down a little, sighing. "Yeah, you're right. We've kept him waiting long enough. Some mystery prisoner isn't any of our damn business."

It was already too late, regardless of whether the heroes tried to go after him. The jester's second reign of chaos was swift and sudden. He ricocheted through the castle, his manical laughter echoing through every hallway, his bursts of magic visible like fireworks in the distance, his devilsknife and his magic attacks shapeshifting into other "weapons" like giant featherdusters, scrubbing brushes and makeshift hands. At first the guards were horrified that the infamous prisoner had escaped. But once they were reduced to shrieks of laughter and pleading and apologies, and Jevil declared victory before bee-lining to his next target and eventually leaving the castle, the denizens of the Darkner world were left flabbergasted, nervous, and perhaps even amused and curious to see if this "dangerous criminal" would return for more...

Ragaeli watched the commotion smugly as he started to fade back to his realm. "Oh dear, it appears I've created a monster~"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You make your way back down the elevator and stairs. You double-check your items, use the save point, and.... What the hell? The dungeon door is gone! Is this an easter egg of some kind? Did the game glitch out? You check your items again... The key is gone too. Okay, something must be wrong. Before you make the decision to replay the whole game just for the hidden boss, you head back to Seam. Maybe talking to him again will re-trigger the events needed for fixing the key?

But when you go inside the "Seap", it isn't just Seam anymore. The secret boss, Jevil, now has a full sprite, grinning gleefully at the player.

[ * UEE HEE HEE, WELCOME, WELCOME LIGHTNERS! SO SORRY WE DIDN'T GET TO PLAY, PLAY. MAYBE ANOTHER DAY! ]

You talk to Seam first, triggering his usual dialogue about how Jevil ended up in the dungeon, and how the heroes would eventually have to face the Knight. And, interestingly, an additional bit of dialogue explaining how the heroes just missed Jevil's "escape", and how his reunion with his old friend was filled with a great deal of laughs... Talking to Jevil afterwards brings up more dialogue. You ask him how he got out of the dungeon.

[ *YES, YES, I SUPPOSE I SHOULD EXPLAIN THAT KEY. I HAD ANOTHER STRANGER COME TO ME! ]

[ *BUT THIS ONE DID NOT MAKE ME FEEL SO AIMLESS. IN FACT, HE SHOWED ME THAT I WOULD HAVE MADE QUITE A MESS! ]

[ * THIS MAY ALL JUST BE A GAME, AND YOU... YES, YOU OUT THERE...]

His sprite momentarily came closer, his yellow irises seeming to bore right into you through your screen...

[ * -MAY HAVE MORE SAY IN WHAT RIGHTS WE CAN OR CANNOT FLAUNT. BUT I THINK, EVEN IN THIS PRISON, WE CAN STILL BE HAPPY, HAPPY, AND PLAY AS MUCH AS WE WANT! ]

[ * WHO IS REAL, AND WHO IS NOT? I DON'T THINK THAT MATTERS ANYMORE, ANYMORE. ]

[ * THAT SILLY RED MONSTER, WHO LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND REMINDED ME THAT THIS WORLD DOES NOT HAVE TO BE A BORE...]

[ * THE STRANGE WORDS HE SAID HAVE STUCK INSIDE MY SPRINGS. NOW MY VIEW ON THIS WORLD HAS BECOME JUST A LITTLE LIGHTER... ]

[ * AND I'M CURIOUSER, AND CURIOUSER, TO SEE WHAT THE FUTURE BRINGS~! ]

#tickle fic #jevil #fanfic #tickle monster #monster boy #jester #clown #tickle fanfic #tickling #male tickling #tickle story

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